PS 2672 ' .' I 






5rPL7\Y3 



INNISFAIL 



|2 




M^ 



ays for fimateaf Sl)eatrleal6. 

BV GEORGE TUZ. BKKER. 

Author of *^ Amateur Dramas,''^ "Tfu Mimic Siag-e,*' "TAe Social Stage** "The Drmoing- 
Room Stage" *'■ Handy Dramas" " The Exhibition Dramas" "A Baker's Dozen" etc. 

Titles in this Type are New Plays. 

Title» in this Type are Temperance Play», 



DRAMAS. 

In Four A cts. 
Better than Oold. 7 male, 4 female 
char 

In Three AcU* 

Our F»lks. 6 male, s female char. 

The Flower of the Family, s 
male, 3 female char 

Enlisted for thb War. 7 male, 3 fe- 
male char 

My Brother's Kbefer. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 

T/f« Little Brown Jug, $ male, 3 
female char 

In Two Acts. 
Above the Clouds. 7 male, 3 female 

char. 

One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 

4 female char 

Among thb Breakers. 6 male, 4 female 

char. 

Brb ', D ON THE Waters. 5 male, 3 female 

char 

Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 

char 

Once on a Tims. 4 male, 2 female char. 
The JLast Loaf, 5 male, 3 female char. 

In One Act. 
Stand by the Flag. 5 male char. . . 
The Tempter. 3 male, i female char. 

COMEDIES AND FARCES. 

A Mysterious Disnppearance. 4 

ma!e, 3 female char 

Paddle Your Own Canoe. 7 male 
3 female char. . , 

A Drop too Much, 4 male, > female 
char 

A. Little More Cider, 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 

A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 
female char 

Nkver Say Die. 3 male, 3 female char. 

Seeing the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female 
char 

"-•w Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 
-- 'ss OF Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- 

FOR Refreshments. 

har. 

lera, 4 male, 2 fe- 

'-rs Only. 

r. . . • 



COMEDIES, etc., continued. 

Male Characters Only. 

A Tender Attachment. 7 char. . • 15 

Coals OF Fjre. 6 char 15 

Freedom OF the Press. 8 char. ... 15 ')li 

fthall Oar MotherM Vot«>? n char. 15 «| 

Gentlemen OF THK Jury. 12 char. . . 15 ^' 

Humors OF the Strike. 8 char. ... 15 

My Uncle THE Captain. 6 char. . . . 15 

New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. . 15 

The Great Elixir. 9 char 15 

Thh Hypochondriac. 3 char 15 

Ihe Man with the JJetniJohn. 4 

char IS 

The Runaways. 4 char. ...... 15 

The Thief of Time. 6 char 15 

Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. . • • 15 

Female Characters Only. 

A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char 15 

A Precious Pickle. 6 char 15 

No Cure No Pay. 7 char 15 

The Champion OF Her Sex. 8 char. . 15 

The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 char. 15 

The Grecian Bend. 7 char 15 

The Red Chignon. 6 char 15 

Using the Weed. 7 char. . . . . . 15 

ALLEGORIES. 

Arranged for Music and Tableaux, 

Lighthart's Pilgrimage. 8 female 

char 15 

The Revolt of the Bees. 9 female 

char IS 

The Sculptor's Triumph, i male. 4 fe- 
male char 15 

The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 fe- 
male char IS 

The War OF THE Roses. 8 female char. 15 

The Voyage of Life. 8 female char. . 15 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

An Original Idea, i male, i female 15 

Bonbons; or, the Paint King. 6 male, 

t female char 25 

Capuletta; or, Romeo and Juliet 15 

Restored. 3 male;,. x. female char. . 15 

Santa Claus* Frolics. '*. 15 

Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave. 
AND THE Fair Imocene. 3 male, 1 

female char 25 

The Merky Christmas of the Old 

Woman who Lived in a Shoe. ... is 

The Pedler of Very Nice. 7 male 

char 15 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- 
ment. NumeroHsmale and female char. 15 

Too Late for the Train. 2 male char. 15 
"" -«">om. II female 

.... 15 



u^n: ^«. r-^*^ 



INN ISFAIL 



OR 



THE WANDERER'S DREAM 



^ ©rama cf Krisf) Hife fn Jour ^cta 



BY y/ 

RICHARD QUINN 

>IGV1C1890J^ 



BOSTON 

1890 







CHARACTERS 



FELIX O'FLAHERTY. 

GERALD O'CONNELL. 

HENRY BLACKWOOD HEADFORD. 

BRANDON BENNER. 

BARTHOLOMEW O'CONNOR MALONE. 

CON O' THE BOGS. 

BOUCHER. 

EFFIE HEADFORD. 

MARY ANNE MALONE. 

MRS. FORD. 

Scene. — Killarney and environs. Time. — 1867. 




Copyright, 18S9, by Richard Quinn. 
Copyright, 1S90, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



/ 



^-Vffo 




COSTUMES. 

Felix.— Felt hat; overcoat and top boots to conceal uniform; beard, and 
policcuians cap carried to complete disguise.' Second Dress: Corduroy 
coat and vest, knee breeches, gray ^stockings, low-cut shoes, green necktie, 
drab hat. Ragged coat and heavy walking stick for Act III. Shabby hunt- 
ing-jacket for Act IV. 

Gekald. — Plain light suit, dark green Newmarket overcoat, felt hat. 
Second Dress : Wedding suit. 

Heabford. — Old gentleman's plain suit; gray hair and beard. 

Malone. — Faded black suit, low-crowned hat; white hair and beard. 

Bennek, — Loud plaid suit, light drab overcoat, plug hat, cane, watch 
and chain; mustache. 

Con. — Rough country dress, battered hat; short black beard. 

Boucher. —Policeman's uniform. 

Effie.— Evening costume. Second Dress: Walking costume and rain 
cloak. Third Dress : Bridal costume. 

Marv Anne. —Red cashmere dress, white apron. 

Mrs. Ford. — Black dress, plaid neck-kerchief, muslin cap. Second 
Dress ; Plain black. 



PROPERTIES. 



Drawing-room furniture, album, photograph, writing materials, five-pound 
note, block of wood, glass of medicine, milk pail, papers, a few kitchen 
utensils, chairs, table, dresser, canvas bag, potatoes, turnips, bed clothing, 
pistol, rocks, candle. 



SYNOPSIS. 

ACT I. 

Scene i. — Hoss Castle, Killarney, by twilight. "For we'll strike 
another blow." The wanderers meet. Gerald's Oiith. Plans for the future. 
" Innisfail ! " Felix feels grateful to an absent brother. '* A real raw sprig 
of the Royal Irish Constabulary." A lucky find and a fruitless search. 
Treachery. 

Scene 2. — A drawing-room in Castle Headford. A man of gloomy 
thoughts. " The mound of green." Her father's choice. Eflie's misery, 
" A parting word." The loose shoe. Brandon's sentiments. " Not a hitch 
in the proceedings." The stolen photograph. A crestfallen foe. "The 
right! What right?" Baffled! 



ACT II. 

Scene i. — Exterior of Mai one's Cottage. The old pedagogue in his 
element. Bog Latin. A stroke of diplomacy. "Who else would I be?" 

Scene 2.— Interior of a mountain hut. A sad picture. " Greenlea." 
A strange meeting. An unexpected arrival. "I never heard tell of him, 
ma'am." A timely visit. " Love's Young Dream." 



ACT in. 

Scene.— The Emerald Scoop — ■s. cave in the Eagle's Nest Mountain. 
"Now, Con! " A bargain. Felix waiting for Gerald. -"The rock! the 
rock ! " The ghost of Mat. Dwyer. A tale of many crimes. The signal. 
"And is the sleep of death so like its image?" "Con! Con! Curse the 
cowardly rogue, he's gone." The Wanderer's Dream. 



ACT IV. 

Scene. — A room in Arbutus Lodge. A guilty conscience. Felix plays 
a strange part, but it strikes home with a vengeance. • " In heaven or earth 
there is no hope, there is no hope for me." Tlie magic word. Startling 
disclosures. Conflicting emotions. A reconciliation. Felix a-thinking. 
" A Michaelmas Daisy." The " Best Man " arrives. The music of Innis- 
fail. 



INNISFAIL. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — Exterior of Ross Castle, Killarney. "landscape 
in one showing corner of the castle. Wing at r. represents 
a large tree. Enter Gerald, l., as ciirtain rises. 

Gerald {soliloquizing). Oh, Erin! mighty nation thou 
wert once, though now the chains of thraldom bind thee fast 
to unrelenting foes. To break thy iron fetters I, too, have 
fought this latest fight in vain. Yet, no blood Fve spilled, 
nor has mine flowed. Oh bitter thought, that '67 should be 
another '98 — still-born progeny of oppression ! 

Fellx {sings without to air " God save Ireland''''). 

For we'll strike another blow 
And we'll rout the Saxon foe 

And we'll fight for dear old Ireland till we die, 
Where our sires before us fought, 
Where their lives were dearly bought, 

Where the bones of many heroes honored lie. 

Ger. Ah, 'tis Felix, true to his promise. 
{Enter Felix, r.) 

Ger. {extending his hand) . Oh, Felix, how different from 
our last meeting ! 

Fel. 'Tis all over with us, Gerald. 

Ger. And but a week ago, how great our hopes, how 
light our hearts, how high our spirits rose. 

Fel. I don't feel like myself at all. Sure I thought I 
could make smithereens of a whole regiment of red coats be- 
fore I took the field, but now my heart don't feel as big as a 
kerogue's kidney. * Bad luck from it from a ruction, but no 
matter ; if the Saxons carried the day, they'll never carry the 
country, no, if every mother's son of them lived to be as old 
as IMethusala. 

Ger. Well, we were fortunate in coming out of the 
struggle with our lives. 



6 INNISFAIL. 

Fel. That same is a great consolation, but weVe not out 
of the woods yet. I hear they're arrestin' the boys by the 
dozen. 

Ger. It will go pretty hard with me, Felix, when I will 
tamely submit to be dragged to the lingering death of a 
British dungeon. Here by the grand old ruins of Erin's de- 
parted glory, I swear, that they will never take me alive. 

Fel. And my name isn't Felix O'Flaherty if they ever 
put a muzzle on me, dead or alive. While I live I will 
struggle for Ireland's freedom ; and as long as these glorious 
old hills remain unchanged, so long will 1 be a free man : so 
long will I defy the tyrants to capture me. 

Ger. I hope they never will, Felix, but His a hard fight, 
and the odds are against us. 

Fel. Odds or no odds, I'll wager you all I have in the 
world that you won't know me yourself the next time you see 
me. I can disguise myself now, so that my own mother 
wouldn't know me. 

Ger. I'll give you five pounds if I fail to recognize you in 
any disguise, at any time, in any place. Can I not tell your 
voice ? 

Fel. Never. Haven't I as good a right to have two 
ways of talking, as M'ell as some of the ladies ? 

Ger. Whom do you mean? 

Fel. There's Brandon Benner's ould pizaun of a sister 
for instance ; she talks so different at times that you'd think 
'twas two different persons were speakin'. 

Ger, Why, where did you hear Miss Benner? 

Fel. 'Twas the way ; 1 was going over there one even- 
ing, to the steward, for the lend of a hay-rake, and by the 
same token 'twas a Httle bit dusky, when whom should I see 
coming down the avenue against me but my brave Miss Ma- 
tilda. When she got within about a quarter of a mile of me, 
says she, in a big, coarse voice that would , frighten a calf out 
of half a year's growth, "Con," says she, "you big, lazy, 
good-for-nothing heap, is it only now you're coming back 
and I expecting you these two hours? You're not worth 
salt for your porridge, you idle lump," says she. The fun of 
it was that she never found out her mistake until I came as 
near to her as you are to me, and then in a voice as sweet as 
the song of a little gold-finch, she said, "Really, Mr. 



INNISFAIL. 7 

OTlaherty, you must pardon me. I thought it was that 
lazy man, Con, the creature is so accustomed to being abused, 
you know.'' "I suppose so, Miss," said I, with a roguish 
twinkle of my eye, as I passed her by. Oh, but Gerald, 'tis 
she has the nice collup of a brother. If he could lay his 
hands on you now, he'd rather it than a year's rent for Keel- 
ballymacshonekeen. 

Ger. Yes, Brandon Benner is a heartless scoundrel. He 
and his ignorant dupe, Con 'o the Bogs, are villains that we 
must keep an eye to, if we have any regard for our liberty. 

Fel. I'd back the pair of them against any couple in the 
country for downright rascality. 

Ger. It is growing late. I ought to be in Castle Head- 
ford by this time. I must go, and remember, Felix, if you 
get into any trouble, count on my assistance, if in defending 
you I lose my life. 

Fel. And nobody will ever have it to say of Felix O'Fla- 
herty that he deserted his best friend in the hour of danger, 
no matter what misfortune may come upon him. 

Ger. Farewell, Felix. If I shall be disguised when next 
we meet — 

Fel. I'll know you. 

Ger. Yes, by the password. Cling to it fondly, Felix. 
'Tis all that is left us — " Innisfail." 

Fel, Innisfail ! 

Ger. Again, farewell. {^Exit Gerald, r.) 

Fel, I have a dangerous piece of ground to put under my feet 
to-night, so I think I'll leave Felix O'Flaherty here and send Ser- 
geant Seemore in his place. {Takes off clothes worn outside 
policenuDCs tiiiiforju.) Oh, but 'twas the lucky day for me, 
Michael O'Flaherty, when you left the peelers behind you, 
and went to America. Sure, many's the scrape your elegant 
clothes got me out of, unknown to you. {Takes off shoes.) 
Oh, bad manners from you, Terry Donoghue, 'twill be a long 
day till I bring you a pair of brogues to put a few thoheens 
on again. Til take them to Wat. Regan\s forge first. What ! 
another gap in my sole. I wish I had somebody besides the 
ould widow to darn my stockings ; one would think 'twas a 
wicker gate she was making for a pig-sty, she puts the threads 
so far asunder. Ah, maybe, some fine day, Mary Anne would 
say the word ; but sure if she saw me now she'd think I was 



8 INiNISFAIL. 

a traitor in earnest, and then she'd never look at the same 
side of the road Td be going again. {Looks l.) Oh, by 
all the goats in Kerry, and that's a horny oath, here comes a 
real raw sprig of the Royal Irish Constabulary. He's an 
awkward-looking ghokuck, God bless him. (Felix hides 
clothes behhid tree, r., pretends to be searching for so?ne- 
thing. ) 

{Enter Boucher, l.) 

Boucher. Hello, comrade ! Lost anything? 

Fel. Good evening. I didn't lose anything. I was only 
just looking up the track of a rebel. 

Bou. But, surely, you don't expect to find it there. 

Fel. That's all right. What am I paid for, man alive, 
but to carry out instructions? 

Bou. Tell me, is it O'Flaherty you're looking for? 

Fel. The same blackguard ; and my orders were not to 
leave as much as a stone unturned in my search, so you see 
I'm only carrying them out. 

Bou. O'Flaherty would be a lucky catch ; he has given 
lots of trouble. I happen to be looking for him, too. 

Fel. Well, now. And I suppose, like myself, you were 
given to understand, on the quiet, that there was promotion 
in it. 

Bou. Yes, and a Httle money too, 

Fel. Ha, ha ! I suppose you come from the Furzogue 
barracks. 

Bou. Yes. 

Fel. I come from Knockenwadera, at the other side o' 
the hill. 

Bou. Did you get any information on the way? 

Fel. Information, how are you ! I followed O'Flaherty 
step for step from O'Sullivan's Cascade to this very spot. 
Now if you go your way and leave me alone I think I can 
capture him. 

Bou. You may need my assistance. 

Fel. Then you'll claim all the credit. 

Bou. It may be promotion for both of us. 

Fel. I have my doubts about that. See here ; what's 
behind this old rain? 

Bou. The lakes, of course. 

Fel. Well, if you saw a man here ten minutes ago, from 



INNISFAIL. '9 

a little distance, and then came up to the spot where he was 
standing and find nothing but his clothes, v/hat conclusion 
would you come to? 

Bou. Naturally, that the man, seeing he was pursued, had 
tried to make good his escape by swimming. 

Fel. (ygoing behind tree). Here are his clothes. Feel 
them, they're warm yet. 

Bou. {excitedly). It seems very strange tome that you 
should act in such a selfish manner. 'Twould just serve you 
right if he got away fi-om you with all your cunning. Wh}- 
are we standing here like two fools? If you don't do your 
duty, I'll do mine. 

Fel. Hold easy a minute, man. O'Flaherty is not much 
of a swimmer, and 'tis as likely as not that he's dodging 
around in the water, till he gets a chance to come back for 
his clothes. Let you run around for the bare life, and I'll 
watch out here in case he may double back ; and whatever 
there's in his capture, I'm willing to divide it evenly. 

Bou. I'm satisfied. There's no time to be lost. 
To-night or never, I must earn a "V." 

{Exit Boucher, r., running.) 

Fel. Ten to one if I oftered him sixpence he'd never try 
half so hard to break his neck, and yet the poor omadhaun 
has his gallop for nothing. {Laughs.) Oh, the poor old 
sinner, 'tis good enough for him. When he comes back he'll 
be sure to find me waiting for him, sure w^iat else would 1 be 
doing? 

{Sings.) 

For we'll strike another blow 
And we'll rout — 

{Sees Brandon, who enters l. cautiously.) Change your 
tune, you devil, you, change your tune. {Resumes song.) 

For we'll strike another blow 
And we'll rout the pyaties low 

And we'll ate a feed of roaster's good and dry. 

Brandon. Hello, Sergeant. Just the man I'm looking 
for. What's the news? 

Fel. Nothing strange, Mr. Benner. 
Bran. I hear O'Connell gave you the slip last night. 
Fel. That's young O'Connell of Ballygerald ? 
Bran, Yes. 



10 INNISFAIL. 

Fel. True, sir. He deluthered four of our men the 
natest way you ever saw. 

Bran. Say no more, sergeant. Come along with me 
and I can show you where you'll find him inside of half an 
hour. I have a rig and a man close by, and we'll arrange 
matters as we go along. (J£xeimt, r.) 

SCENE II. — A drawiiig-rooDi in Castle Headfo7'd. Door 
in center opening i7ito hall. Headford and Effie sitting 
near window., l. c. 

Headford. I never sit by this window, in the twilight, 
my child, but some gloomy remembrance steals over my 
mind, and enters into the very depths of my soul. 

Effie. Why allow the twilight to steal away your good 
humor, father, when in a moment I can light the lamp and 
dispel the shades of darkness from this room at least 1 

Head. There are times, Effie, when sad recollections 
make such a conquest of the mind, that it seems more 
difficult to turn abruptly from one's thoughts than to let 
them take their own course. 

Eff. I often wonder when I see you looking so discon- 
solate, if you are thinking of my dear mother. 

Head. Sometimes, yes, my child. 

Eff. Heaven's will be done. Why should it make you 
sorrowful to think of my mother? I only wish you would 
always talk about her, and tell me more and more. What 
she used to say when I was in her arms, how she looked — 

Head. She was the very picture of you, Effie, and loved 
you dearly. The thought of leaving you disturbed her 
greatly in her last moments here. 

Eff. And how old was I when she died ? 

Head. You were scarcely three years old when she 
passed away. 'Twas a night like this. {Aside. ^ Ah, 
where am I wandering? 

Eff. Three years ! How quickly these fourteen others 
have fled. Just think, to-morrow will be my seventeenth 
birthday 



Head. Are you not going to bring the light, dear 



Eff. Yes, father, but v.'on't you promise to take me 
some time to my mother's grave, so I can kneel and pray, 
and read the inscription on her monument? {Risi?ig.) 



INNISFAIL. II 

Head. 'Tis some five-and-twenty miles hence, and I am 
growing feeble. I cannot promise you now. You may 
bring the light. {Exit Effie.) 

Head. Read the inscription on your mother's monument ! 
Alas, 'twould fill your eyes with tears, my child. Ali, poor, 
deluded girl, little you dream the truth. 'Twas a night like 
this she passed away from the shelter of this roof to the 
ridicule of the world. Oh, would, for my daughter's sake, it 
had been to another world. Oh, Effie, better that you 
should forever remain in ignorance of your mother's fate. 
Yet, a few short words would tell her all. — Could I but say 
to her: Effie, by love was I married to one beneath, far 
beneath, my rank ; by the scorching blasts of human scorn 
was that love withered into hate ; by hate was that fond, 
devoted, faithful wife turned out to the charity of a cold 
world — but no, I can never tell her. I'll carry my secret to 
the grave. Remorse, Fm yours alone. I have no room for 
joy. 

{Enter Effie with lajjip.^* 

Eff. Now, father dear, let the lamp banish the gloom 
from your mind as it does from the night. 

Head. Effie, I have been thinking very seriously for a long 
time about making some provision for your future. I am not 
old, neither am I as young as I used to be, and I knov/ it 
would make me happier in my old age to see you comfortably 
situated in life. To be brief — I have decided to settle all 
my income on you, with the exception of a small pittance to 
supply my present wants. 

Eff. O, father, how generous, how thoughtful. How can 
I ever repay such kindness ? 

Head. Your constant attention to me, Effie, has deserved 
all this and more. My only object is to make you happy, and 
all I ask in return is that you will accede to my one request. 

Eff. Father, what slightest wish of yours did I ever dis- 
regard? Surely, I cannot forfeit your good opinion now, Ijy 
disobedience. 

* NOTE. — If desired, a song maybe introduced here. In such case use 
following dialogue. 

Eff. See, father, I brought my music too. If you grow weary of my 
sinking, you can resume your novel. Let me see where you stopped. Ah, here's 
the book-mark. — Chapter IV. — The mysterious disappearance. — Why, if 1 had 
been reading I couldn't think of leaving off at such an interesting point. 

Head, (aside). And still another pang. 



12 INNISFAIL. 

Head. An intimate friend of our family, who has always 
entertained a very high opinion of you, has sought and ob- 
tained my consent to seek your hand in marriage. I shall 
give you a little time to think over the proposal, but I am 
certain that even at this moment the name of Brandon Benner 
is foremost in your thoughts. 

Eff. Brandon Benner! 

Head. Yes, my child. Do you not think you could give 
him your heart as well as your hand? He comes of a most 
respectable family, and although he frankly admits that his late 
father left the estate largely encumbered, I have no doubt, if 
you become his wife, he will work Vvith greater energy than 
ever to clear off his inherited indebtedness. 

Eff. This indeed has taken me by surprise. 

Head. Such surprises, Effie, are m.ost agreeable to girls of 
your age. Brandon promised to drive over here this evening, 
so I shall leave you to decide, but look to the answer. 

Eff. Father, be my answer — 

Head. Yes, or I shall leave you penniless. Look to it 
well. Wealth, honor, independence and my esteem, on the 
one hand, await.your pleasure. Weigh these against an angry 
father on the other. Do not let an overdose of silly sentiment 
usurp the throne of reason in arriving at this, a decision on 
which will hinge your future happiness or misery. 

Eff. And have I no choice in so grave a matter? 

Head. Choice! 'Tis childish thus to speak. Am I not for 
your good? Think seriously; think vvisely ; think calmly, 
and when Brandon Benner comes to-night, Effie, beware of 
the answer you give him. (^Exit Headford.) 

Eff. Heaven help me in this the greatest trial of my life. 
There's a commanding tone in his words. There's no mis- 
taking their meaning. Oh, what would Gerald say could he 
but hear them? Should I hesitate I will surely incur my 
father's displeasure. I dread the very thought of opposing 
him. Yet I will try to reason with him. I will tell him that 
I like Brandon well enough as an acquaintance, but oh I to 
think of him as a husband. No — no, I will never give my 
hand to Brandon Benner, since my heart this many a day 
abides with Gerald O'Connell. (Gerald knocks at windoiv. ) 
Why, Gerald ! {Goes up and opens nvindow.^ 

Ger. My own Effie ! 



INNISFAIL. 13 

Eff. Won''t you come in, Gerald, there's no one here. 
{Enter Gerald.) 

Ger. I have only a moment to stay. I called to say a 
parting word. I am forced to leave Ballygerald for, God only 
knows how long. I could go without a murmur, darling, 
were it not that •! leave you behind. My journey will be a 
perilous one, but at the very first opportunity I shall return, 
for my heart remains with you. 

Eff. Oh, Gerald, can it be that you must leave me now 
and make me still more unhappy ? 

Ger. If I leave not, Effie, of my own accord, the fate that 
awaits me is easily told : the prison, the trial, the convict 
ship. 

Eff. Then away, Gerald, away, and may the God of 
freedom guide your footsteps. I know you are a Fenian. 

Ger. If to have loved my country and to have struggled for 
her independence on the green old hills would entitle me to 
the name, I am proud to acknowledge it. 

Eff. Then I would be a Fenian too, Gerald. 

Ger. For Heaven's sake don't let your father hear this or 
you'll never hear the end of it. If he knew that I was with 
the boys I dare not show my face here. But what has con- 
spired to make you unhappy? This is the first time that I 
ever no'ticed an eclipse of that bright smile which has always 
been to me, what the sun is to the earth. 

Eff. O, Gerald, there's such a w^eight upon my mind. 

Ger. If any one has given you offence, let me swear that 
while there's strength in my right hand, I will wreak vengeance 
on the head of the offender. 

Eff. Hold, Gerald, hold, I have not been offended, but 
Brandon. Benner — 

Ger. Brandon Benner! How, what villainy now? 

Eff. Nothing more or less than a proposal of marriage which 
is utterly distasteful to me. 

Ger. a proposal of marriage ! 

Eff. Yes, and were it not that my father approves, nay, 
commands my approval of his suit, I would treat it with 
the utmost indifference. I would not let it cost me even a 
thought. 

Ger. But your father's command-— 

Eff. Alas, there lies the secret of my misery. 



14 INNISFAIL. 

Ger. And the dread of opposing him — 

Eff. Is more than I can bear. 

Ger. And oh, Effie, should he threaten? 

Eff. Threaten ! Alas, he has already drawn a picture of 
the consequences at the thought of which I shudder. But, 
whatever ills my course may follow Til keep my heart for you, 
with Heaven's help forever. 

Ger. Effie, ever true ! From this hour until we meet again 
ril live for Erin and for thee. Farewell. 

{E7iter Headford aytd Brandon.) 

Bran. And how is Effie, this evening? 

Eff. Quite well, thank you. 

Bran. And Gerald. Upon my honor, I thought you were 
over the hills by this time. 

Head. Gerald, my boy, how are you? Had I known that 
you were here I would not have remained smoking so long. 
{Offers chair to Brandon.) 

Ger. {aside). And if I knew you were coming I would not 
have remained talking so long, but I must make the best of 
it now. 

Bran. Rather a wild night, Mr. Headford. By George, I 
thought I'd never get here. We were stopped no less than 
three times on the way. 

{Enter Con o' the Bogs.) 

Con. I ax pardon for comin' in here wid my dirty brogues, 
but Masther Brandon, there's a shoe loose on Romeo, sir. I 
just noticed it as I was rubbin' him dov.n, and I'm in dread 
'twill never hould over the road home. 

Bran. You will have plenty of time to take him to the forge, 
Con, if you are not afraid of meeting some of these insurgents 
on your way. 

Con. Is id Con o' the Bogs to be afeard of man, or ghost, 
or divil? Ah, Masther Brandon, 'tisn't yourself that ought to 
be makin' little iv my charackter forninst the quality. But 
never fear, sir, I'll be back safe and sound afore you're ready 
to shtart, if you think 'tis better to carry him to the forge. 
Maybe you'd like to take a look at the baste yourself, sir. 

Head. Is Romeo the horse you bought at Caherciveen? 

Bran. The same, Mr. Headford. I was oftered ninety 
pounds for him at the Mah.iree fair, but would not sell him 
Jess than a hundred guineas. So you will pardon me while I 



INNISFAIL. 15 

go to the stable to see if it be really necessary to send Con 
on what may prove a useless and dangerous errand. 

{^Exit Con.) 

Head. Oh, certainly. I would like to take a look at the 
steed myself. 

Bran. Are you not afraid of catching cold in the night air, 
sir? It is quite damp and chilly. 

Head. O, bless you, no. 

Eff. What ! Brandon, a new coachman? 

Bran. Yes. This is Con's first experience with the reins. 

Eff. What became of old Andy? 

Bran. He was arrested last night. 

Head. Andy arrested ! 

Bran. Yes ; and if I had the remotest idea that he had 
any connection with these infernal insurgents, I would not 
have kept him ten minutes in my employ. But Con is a loyal 
man, a faithfol man, and worthy of my confidence. 

{^Exeunt Brandon and Headford.) 

Ger. Thank Heaven for your absence. I would rather 
Con had your confidence than mine. 

Eff. Well, indeed, I too would be very sorry to trust 
Mr. Con if his appearance is an index to his character. 

Ger. When I am gone, Effie, beware of that man. I 
could tell you more of his own and his master's villainy, — 
but no, this is not the time or the place. I do not know but 
at this very moment they are plotting for my destruction. 

•Eff. If I thought it could be possible, I would advise you 
to leave now, before Brandon's return. 

Ger. But your father, what would he thinly of my 
abrupt departure ? 

Eff. He'd think, Gerald, that there was a shoe loose on 
another steed. But I cannot understand why Brandon, of 
all others, should wish you evil. He is apparently very 
friendly towards you. 

Ger. As friendly as a cat is to an iron cage between him 
and a dove. 

{Enter Brandon and Headford.) 

Head. No, Brandon, one's life is not safe in these days, 

especially that of one determined to uphold the constitution. 

Bran, I would show these rebels no mercy, Mr. Head- 



i6 



INNISFAIL. 



ford. I would shoot them down like dogs, and every loyal 
man must think on this question as I do. 

{Enter Felix as Sergt. Seemore.) 

Fel. You are Mr. Headford, I presume. 

Head. That is my name, sir. 

Fel. I am Sergeant Seemore, sir. In the present dis- 
turbed condition of the country, I dare say you are quite fa- 
miliar with such intrusions. 

Head. I can't say that I am. Sergeant. 

Fel. Well, I meant to convey that unexpected visits from 
the upholders of law and order were of too frequent occur- 
rence to <^reate any alarm. I regret extremely being obliged 
to enter your house so rudely, but duty has stronger claims 
on me than courtesy in the present instance. This gentle- 
man {pointing to QYiKMJS) exactly corresponds with a de- 
scription I have received of Gerald O'Connell, one of the rebel 
leaders. Any doubt that may exist as to his identification is 
summarily removed by this photograph. Gerald O'Connell, 
you are my prisoner. 

Eff. {aside^ . Prisoner ! oh heavens, how Gerald's words 
rush back upon me — The prison ! The trial ! The convict 
ship. (Sinks in chair. ) 

Head. Sergeant, I think you are acting too hastily in 
this matter. Mr. O'Connell is a gentleman of unimpeachable 
character. I have known him since he was a mere boy, and 
if you forego your determination to arrest him, I will guar- 
antee anything for him and see that you do not get into any 
trouble. 

Fel. Your recommendation is of no avail in so serious a 
case. He must come with me. 

Bran, (aside). Excellent, by George. Not a hitch in 
the proceedings. 

Fel. And now, Mr. Benner, accept my thanks for your 
valuable assistance to the authorities, in securing the arrest 
of this insurgent. 

Bran. You scoundrel ! In what mysterious manner do 
you seek to connect me with the capture of my friend, O'Con- 
nell? Upon my honor, 'tis the strangest thing I ever heard. 

Fel. Mr. Benner, you astonish me. How short-lived 
your memory must be ! If I wear the uniform of a sergeant 
in the Royal Irish Constabulary, do not think for a moment 



INNISFAIL. 17 

that I am lost to all sense of honor. If I am a preserver of 
the peace, I am a man also. 

Head, What, have I not seen the worst yet? What 
means all this ? 

Fel. About an hour ago, sir, Mr. Benner accosted me 
on my patrol, and told me he had learned that O'Connell had 
given the authorities the slip last night. He told me to 
come with him and he could lay his hand on the rebel inside 
of half an hour. He then gave me this photograph on the 
way. {Produces it.') 

Eff. The very one that Gerald gave me. Is it not, Ger- 
ald? 

Ger. I would not be positive. 

Eff. Here's the album. The first photo in it was yours, 
and see, it is not here. 

Ger. Continue, Sergeant. 

Fel. Mr. Benner also informed me that he would render 
me any assistance he could. I came with him and dis- 
mounted at the avenue gate to await there the return of his 
coachman, which was to be my signal for proceeding to your 
house, and in coming here I have done my duty, nothing more 
or nothing less. Now, Mr. Benner, call me a liar, if you 
dare. 

Bran. Curse you ! I must see your County Inspector 
about this. (Exit.) 

Head. This is the first arrest that was ever made in 
Castle Headford. Heaven grant it may be the last. {Exit.) 

Ger. Sergeant, will you allow me to write a letter? It 
will not take more than five minutes. 

Fel. Certainly. 

Ger. Thanks. Effie, will you give me a sheet of paper, 
and a pen and ink ? 

Eff. Yes, Gerald. {Gives them ; toY^iAy..) Sergeant, 
don't you think there's any hope for poor Gerald? 

Fel. It becomes me not to say just yet. Is there any one 
listening? 

Eff. {looks around). Not a soul. 

Fel. Then any further disclosures I may make would un- 
doubtedly be kept secret by you. 

Eff. No human being shall ever know. 

Ger. Efiie, deliver this letter at the earliest opportunity. 
Do not lose a moment. 



1 8 INNISFAIL. 

Fel. Let me see it, please. {Takes letter, reads. "^ Mr. 
Felix OTlaherty. {Opetis letter.) 

Eff. Sergeant, you surprise me. 

Fel. {reads). "I am under arrest this moment. The 
portals of a British dungeon once passed — a long farewell to 
freedom. Help me if you can. I will die before I surrender. 
'Erin go Bragh.'' " 

Eff. But a moment ago, }ou talked of honor. Would 
any man of common decency be guilty of such foul dishonor? 

Fel, I claim that every man in my position has the 
right — 

Ger. The right! What right? 

Fel. {throwing off disguise) . To open his own letters, 

^^p • \ Felix OTlaherty ! 

Fel, Innisfail ! Is the five-pound note mine? 

Ger, 'Tis yours. {Gives him nioney.) I wish 'twere 
fifty. 

Eff. Sh-h, there's some one coming. (Felix puts on 
disguise. ) 

{Enter Headford and Brandon.) 

Head. Are they not gone yet? 

Bran. This is some conspiracy, i\Ir. Headford, to 
blacken my character and prejudice your daughter against 
me, 

Fel. 'Twould be hard to make your character any 
blacker than it is, you double-dealing hypocrite of a villain. 
Look at me! {Takes off disguise.) Fm Felix O'Flaherty 
and I defy you. 

Bran. I knew it was conspiracy, 

Fel, Conspiracy! Look here, Benner. {Grasping him 
by collar.) Didn't I tell everything that passed between us 
just as it happened? Answer me, or Fll make you remember 
this night the longest day you live. 

Bran. 'Tis — 'tis so. {Aside.) Curse the lazy dogs, 
why don't they come. 'Tis time — 

{Enter Con ajtd Boucher.) 

Bran, {to Boucher). There, Constable, is the impos- 
tor. 

Bou. (/i? Felix). You are my prisoner, sir. Come with 
me. 



INNISFAIL 



19 



Fel. Not unless you're a better man than I am. 

Bou. I call upon 3-ou, Mr. Banner, and (^to Con) you too, 
to assist me. Take this man. I will take care of O'Con- 
nell. 

Fel. You black-whiskered rogue, if you lay a hand on 
him, ril give you a blow that'll put you into the middle of 
next week. (^Knocks Boucher doivn.^ 

TABLEAU. 

Gerald. Headford. Brandon. Con {tremblitig). 
Effie. Boucher {down). 

Felix. 



20 INNISFAIL. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. — Exterior of Mai.o^'e's collage. Felix s/ll/ng on 
a block ofwood^ smoking pipe. Enter Mary Anne carry- 
ingjug. 

Fel. Your soul to glory, Mary Anne. ""Tis like your 
good-natured self. She knows I have a long road before 
me. (^As she approaches.^ Oh, don't ask me, darlin'. 
Take it away, take it away, acushla, sure I didn't look side- 
ways at a drop of the " craythur"'' since last Michaelmas. 

Mary Anne. Felix OTlaherty, you're a droll gorsoon. 
The Lord betune us and all harm, sure you don't think it's 
pizenin' you I'd be, with the physic I'm goin' to give the sick 
cow. 

Fel. That it may do the poor beast good. I thought it 
was a little drop of mountain dew was in it. 

Mary A. And do ye think I'd be after houldin' a noggin 
o' potteen forninst you this blessed evenin'? 

Fel. Sure I ought to know it's yourself v/ouldn't do 
anything of the kind. I was wonderin' what was comin' 
over you. And you know yourself 'tis a great deal of coaxin' 
would make me take it anyhow. 

Mary A. Maybe I could coax you to take a good long 
drink of buttermilk. I .was churnin' to-day, so when Fm 
comin' round by the dairy I'll bring hether a gallon, and won't 
be long nor lazy about it ayther. {Exit.) 

Fel. My heart's darlin', it's too long you'll be for my 
likin'. My thoughts will fairly burst through my skull if I 
keep them in any longer. I must speak out my mind 
to-night, even if old Bartholomew himself comes to the fore. 
{Enter Malone.) Speak of the devil — 

Malone. Felix, once my worthy pupil, how are you? 

Fel. Can't complain, sir, sure I needn't ask how's your- 
self. 'Tis a scrawbish kind of an evenin', sir. You're takin' 
it easy, I see. 

Mal. I am leading a very easy life now. 

Fel. Fair and easy goes far in a day. I'm told you gave 
up the school, sir. 

Mal. Yes, the Commissioners of National Education in 



INNISFAIL, 21 

Ireland have peremptorily concluded that your old preceptor 
should evacuate the fortification of erudition where the 
dissemination of knowledge was his diurnal avocation in the 
circumscribed limits of Knockewadera. 

Fel. {aside). Yohhe cum scokhe cum scokhe cum 
tarem, 

Mal. It is absolutely unnecessary for me to expostulate 
or animadvert on the idiosyncrasy of the biped who had the 
presumption, the audacity, the brazen effrontery to succeed 
me. 

Fel. {aside). Yohhe cum scokhe cum scokhe cum 
tarem. 

Mal. I cannot conscientiously designate the pedantic 
pedagogue whose predecessor I was, with the title of 
successor. It is too honorable an appellation for a super- 
cilious, arrogant, despicable ignoramus whose impenetrable 
cranium is impervious to the rays of enlightenment. 

Fel. Knockewadera will miss you, Mr. Malone. Sure 
everybody knows that ornadhaun couldn't hould a candle to 
you. 

Mal. In Orthography, Etymology, Syntax, and Prosody. 
In Arithmetic, Mensuration and Algebra. In Geography, in 
Penmanship and Geometry. Where, I ask, is -the other 
man who can impart the fimdamental principles of all these 
branches of learning with a system as unerring, as method- 
ical, as orthodox as mine? ^ A system, Felix, of which I 
alone was the originator. 

Fel. {aside). Yohhe cum scokhe cum scokhe cum 
tarem . 

Mal. You observed me lay particular stress on Geom- 
etry? 

Fel. Why wouldn't I ? Many's the paulthogue I got on 
the head of it. 

Mal. Well, Felix, it was in EucHd's Elements of Geom- 
etry that my genius took its most eccentric flight. Had it 
not been for what I considered my premature superannuation, 
I was about to make some disclosures v/hich would set the 
scientific world ablaze. 

Fel. i thought I heard a clap of thunder. 

Mal. I will proceed to read for you a learned disserta- 
tion on what I consider one of t'le most important solutions 
of an intricate problem that has been yet attempted. 



22 INNISFAIL. 

Fel. {aside^. Heaven be merciful to me, I'm not 
prepared to die yet, 

Mal. And do you suppose that Tm going to reveal to an 
ungrateful world what has hitherto been incomprehensible? 
Most emphatically, no. 

Fel. But sure youVe not goin' to read all that, Mr. 
Malone. 

Mal. The entire essay only contains twelve sheets of 
foolscap. 

Fel. Twelve sheets of foolscap ! {Aside.) And a fool's 
head in the bargain. Oh, Mary Anne, if you only knew all 
Fm sufferin' for you. 

Mal. As I go along, Felix, do not hesitate to interrogate 
me on any statement which you may not thoroughly compre- 
hend. 

Fel. Hasn't Sergeant Clohesy a grudge against you? 

Mal. What if the contemptible rascal has ? What put 
that into your head ? 

Fel. I was only thinkin' if he happened to stroll down 
this way, 'twouldn't be wishin' to us for good deal. 

Mal. Why? What do we care about the scoundrel ? 

Fel. It might or it mightn't be the means of getting me 
into trouble. For as sure as you're livin', if he came this 
way and saw the two of us sittin' out here, and you readin' 
them papers, the first thing he would do would be to seize 
yourself and the papers and call them treasonable documents. 

Mal. But there's nothing whatever treasonable in this 
dissertation on Geometry. 

Fel. 'Twould be all one with him. The same black- 
guard is bad-minded enough to make treason out of a prayer- 
book if he had anything in his nose for a boy. If you take 
a friend's advice you will go into the house and put the 
papers away. 

Mal. I believe I will take your advice. Come inside 
and I will read this and one or two other papers on Algebra 
and Mensuration. 

Fel. {aside). The cure is worse than the disease. 
{Aloud.) I have a long journey before me to-night, Mr. 
Malone, only for that it's glad I'd be to spend a piece of an 
evenin' with you, and as to listenin' to your readin', 'twouldn't 
do me much good, sir. Your wriiin' isn't fit to be read ex — 

Mal. Not fit to be read, not fit to be read ! 



INNISFAIL. 23 

Fel. Ex — except before some of the quality, the 
Commissioners of National Education or the likes ; such 
elegant language as yours, Mr. Malone, is only wasted on 
me, for you know yourself 'tisn't always easy to understand 
great men. Pll be wishin' you good evenin', sir. 

Mal. Good evening, Felix. You are right. The com- 
missioners would profit by a perusal of these papers, but they 
shall never see them, no, never. 

(Ex/i Malone m^o cottage, r.) 
Fel. {sig/is). I saw my share of hardship in my day, 
but 'tis a mighty hard day's work I wouldn't rather do than 
stay half an hour listenin' to that ould blatherskite. 
{Enter Mary Anne carrying pail of milk.) 

Mary A. Here, Felix, that's what will take the drought 
off o' you. 

Fel. {drinks). The finest I ever tasted, and sure it 
couldn't be anything else, seein' that 'twas yourself that 
churned it. 

Mary A. Leave off now, and go on wid yourself. 

Fel. Sure, I was just goin' off after biddin' good evenin' 
to your grandfather when I saw you comin' hether. If he 
comes out again he'll wonder what's delayin' me. 

Mary A. An' sure I haven't a sugaun tied to you. 

Fel. No, darlin', but maybe you wouldn't mind taking a 
peep in to see if there's any sign of him comin' out again, as 
I have a word or two to say in private. 

Mary A. I'll take a look in to make your mind aisy. 

{Exit Mary Anne ifito cottage. ) 

Fel. My heart is jumpin' inside in me like a frog in a 
field of clover. What will I say to her, at all, at all? 
{Enter Mary Anne.) 

Mary A. He's readin' away for the bare life ; there's no 
fear of him stirring for the next hour. He's after takin' off 
his shoes. 

Fel. Now, Mary Anne acushla, you mustn't breathe a 
word of what I'm goin' to tell you to man or mortal. 

Mary A. You may depind on me. 

Fel. Well, Gerald O'Connell is on his keepin' for bein' 
on the hills of old Ireland with the boys, last March, and 



24 INNISFAIL. 

when he gets out of trouble he's goin' to give me the house 
on the kiln field, and to throw in a few acres of land besides. 

Mary A. That's good. I wouldn't doubt his generous 
heart, but sure it's well desarvin' of it you are. 

Fel. That's not the best of it. It's as good as certain 
that himself and Efifie Headford will be one before very long. 
Castle Headford will go with her, as the ould gentleman has 
nobody else to leave it to. Then you know, besides bein' a 
second cousin of mine on the mother's side, Gerald is the 
best friend I have. 

Mary A. But wasn't there some talk of Brandon Benner 
goin' for Efifie? 

Fel. He has no more chance of her than your ould 
grandfather. Efifie will have Gerald or nobody, and Gerald 
will have Efifie or die an ould bachelor. That's the long and 
short of it. 

Mary A. Success and good luck to 'em is all I have to 
say. 

Fel. Who knows but somebody might be sayin' the same 
to yourself one of these fine days ? 

Mary A. 'Tis little they'd have to do. 

Fel. Oh, then for all that, you're the girl that wouldn't 
think much of takin' em unawares. There's Terry Donoghue 
and Garrett Burns, likely boys enough. If you only said the 
word to Terry 'twould be the highest feather in his cap. 

Mary A. There's neyther rhyme nor ray son in what you're 
sayin', Felix. 

Fel. I was never very much given to rhyme, and as for 
rayson, 'tis very little of that same is left in me this blessed 
minute. But sure 'tis yourself is to blame for that. 

Mary A. Why, Felix! What have I done ? 

Fel. Oh, 'tisn't what you have done at all, 'tis what 
nature has done for you. The Lakes of Killarney can't help 
enchantin' people far an' near who have an eye for beauty, 
neither can you, avourneen. 

Mary A. I won't listen to any more of your blarney, 
Felix O'Flaherty. 

Fel. You may call it blarney if you like, darlin\ but I 
never stopped while I'd be goin' five miles of the road to look 
at the purtiest sight in the lakes, and here I'm edgin' around 
while I could be from this to Kenmare, just to get one glimpse 
at your darlin' self. 



INNISFAIL. 25 

Mary A. It's gettin' worse an worse you are. I must go 
and milk the cow. 

Fel. Before you go,acushla, I want to ask you one ques- 
tion. 

Mary A. Well, what is it? 

Fel. Which would you rather be, Mrs. Donoghue or Mrs. 
Ikirns ? 

Mary A. Oh, nomoreofyour cross-actin' now. {Cross(^s 
to R.) 

Fel. (^aside). Well, here goes once and for all. {Aloud.") 
How would you — oh, bad luck from my impudence. {Fol- 
lows her.) Oh, Mary Anne, now or never say the word. 
Could you ever make up your mind — 

Mary A. Why to be sure. I made up my mind now to 
^o an' milk the cow. Sure you don't think Fm a rale oans- 
hook entirely. 

Fel. Arrah 'tisn'tthat all, eroo, but would you ever think 
of making up your mind to be — Mrs. O'Flaherty? 

Mary A. Yerra, Felix, aragal, who else would I be? 

Fel. Oh, cushla gal machree, you're the darlin' girl for 
me. {Music; exeunt.) 

SCENE II. — Interior of a nwjintain hut. Thunder, light- 
ning and heavy rain. Mrs. Ford discovered sewing. 
Her mother supposed to be in small room, R. 

Mrs. F. Heaven look down wid pity on the poor to-night. 
Mother darlin', were you callin'? {Listens.) No. Ah, 
musha, I'm afraid it's lavin' me for ever the poor crayther'll be 
and then sure it's soon I'll be follyin' her. But God is good 
and I oughtn't to grumble. Glory be to goodness, what a 
terrible night. Och oych, sure many's the poor Feenyeen 
that's drownded wet, on the hills this blessed minit, with 
nayther food or shelter next or near him. If I have no better 
nourishment than a few pyalies to give my poor mother, I 
tiKmk heaven that the little cabin is still over our heads. {A 
knock at door.) Come in asthore. 

{Enter Effie.) 

Mrs. F. Oh, but it's wet you are, darlin,' and what 
would be after bringing a young lady dressed in the height 
of fashion around this poor and lonely spot ? Sit down, 
acushla, and let me hang up your cloak to dry. 



26 INNISFAIL, 

Eff. This is Mrs. Ford's, isn't it? 

Mrs. F. 'Tis indeed. 

Eff. I suppose yon. are Mrs. Ford. 

Mrs. F. I am, eroo. 

Eff. Then yon know something about a gentleman who 
promised to meet me here. 

Mrs. F. Faix and sure I do, avourneen. He said he'd 
be here to-night a little after sunset. 

Eff. Did he look well, Mrs. Ford? 

Mrs. F. Purty well, miss, but I never saw a young gintle- 
man whose eyes tould so much of what was goin' on inside as 
his. There was the mournfullest, and the tenderest, and the 
honestest look I ever saw, and you could know that his 
heart was filled with some great longin'. You'd think 'twas 
a ship he was watchin' saiiin' far away over the say, and that 
his heart was wid somebody on board. 

Eff. When was he here ? 

Mrs. F. Last Wednesday, the same night that my poor 
mother got a change for the worse. 

Eff. And did he remain long? 

Mrs. F. No indeed. As soon as he tould me about you 
and the care I should take of you, he left in a hurry, but 
sure if I never he ird of your comin', 'tisn't the uncivil word 
would ever pass my lips in your presence. I suppose you 
come a long way, Miss. 

Eff. Only from Arbutus Lodge. 

Mrs. F. The Riordon's place, is it? 

Eff. Yes. 

Mrs. F. Oh, then dacent people they are, every one of 
them. You are wid some of the rale ould stock, the likes of 
'em isn't in the county Kerry. But isn't it a wonder you 
weren't afraid comin' over alone. 

Eff. If you knew what brought me here you would have 
little reason to think that I would be afraid. 

Mrs. F. I can partly guess the reason, miss, but sure 
wouldn't you be thinkin' of ghosts and the like, and you pas- 
sin' by the ion-isome churchyard ? 

Eff. The lonely churcliyard on my way would at other 
times make me trem.ble v;ith fear, but to-night my mind was 
too much occupied with other thoughts to think of ghosts. 

Mrs. F. Faix an' 'tisn't very long ago since there used to 
be a black dog appearin' at Greenlea, miss. 



INNISFAIL.' ±^ 

Eff. Is that churchyard called Greenlea? 

Mrs. F. Yes, indeed. 

Eff. Heavens ! the very place. 

Mrs. F. It 'most brings the tears to my eyes, darlin\ to 
hear the name spoken of. It's our buryin' place, and Pm 
afraid the day isn't far when the best friend I have in the 
v.'ide, wide world, will be laid to rest in the could clay. Oh 
asthore machree, my mother ! 

Eff. You ought to thank Heaven, Mrs. Ford, that your 
mother is spared to 3'ou so long. If your mother, like mine, 
had died while you were a child, would not your lot be much 
harder? 

Mrs. F. Oh, then, acushla, I suppose I'd never think of 
her. I would forget — 

Eff. Forget ! Ah no, it v/ould be the tenderest recollec- 
tion of your life. If I thought I could be to Greenlea and 
back again before Ger — before he comes, I would go this 
very moment, wild and all as the night is. 

Mrs. F. 'Twould be nothing short of madness, miss. I 
wouldn't have the heart to let you outside the door again on 
such a night as this. 

Eff. If your mother were dead for years, and if you had 
never seen her grave, would you call it madness to go.'* 

Mrs. F. Human nature is weak, acushla. 

Eff. But human affection is strong. 

Mrs. F. But how, in the name of all that's wonderful, 
could you expect to find her grave this hour of the night? 

Eff. Oh, I think if I once set my foot in the churchyard 
something would lead me to the spot. 

Mrs. F. Oh, darlin', you're talkin' quare entirely. Sure 
there isn't a tombstone high or low in the place but I know 
myself, and I could hardly find a grave on a pitch-dark night 
like this, even if I had the courage to go there. 

Eff. And if you know it so well, tell me, if you've ever 
seen the name of Headford on a tombstone in Greenlea? 

Mrs. F. Headford ! The Lord betune us and all harm, 
no. 

Eff. It must be there. 

Mrs. F. There isn't or there never was one of the name 
buried in Greenlea. I'm sure of that. 

Eff. But it must be some fourteen ycaro ag.; -.ince my 



2^ INNISFAIL. 

mother died and I am sure that is the place where she was 
buried. 'Tis very strange — 

Mrs. F. Where did your mother live before she died, 
miss ? 

Eff. In Castle Headford. 

Mrs. F. Praise be to God, and you are Efifie Headford ! 
my daughter ! oh, my daughter! {Embraces her.') 

Eff. How strange if true. Could my father have deceived 
me.? This shock is more than I can bear. {Music.) In 
mercy's name explain — {A knock at door.) 'Tis Gerald! 
{Looks out window.) No, 'tis a stranger. Is there no place 
I can go.? I do not want to let that man see me here. 

Mrs. F. If you go into the little room, alanna, you might 
start my mother, for she's very low. {Knock repeated.) Go 
behind the dresser, and nobody will see you. I must open 
the door. 

{Enter Co^ o' the Bogs.) 

Con. God save all here. 

Mrs. F. Save you kindly. 

Con. Might I make bowld to ax a little shelter from the 
rain, ma'am ; 'tis the terriblest night ever come, and after 
travellin' twelve miles I'm famished and starved, and sure 
what harm, only I brought it all on myself. 

Mrs. F. 'Tisn't everybody you'd meet would do the 
likes. 

Con. Well, you see, there was a neighbor of mine at the 
fair of Castle Island, yesterday, and be the same token he 
druv the last cow he had there to try to scrape up the rint. 
He stood his ground from early in the morning until 'twas far 
gone in the day, and nobody axed him as much as what 
brought him there. When he was comin' home he stepped 
into a house on the side o' the road, to light his pipe, and 
when he come out, the cow was gone so far ahead of him he 
never overtook her. Thinkin' that she strayed back this way 
— for 'twas from a farmer in these parts he bought her about 
this time twelve months — I tould him I'd follow her out iv 
pure compassion for his family, and bad luck to the trace of 
her I've come across on my way. 

Mrs. F. What kind of a lookin' cow was she? 

Con. a red and white speckled one wid a pooken on her 
horns, for she was always given to ramblin'. But as I was 



INNISFAIL. 29 

say in', Pm weak wid the hunger, and if you have any victuals 
in the house 'twould be a charity to give me something to 
ate. 

Mrs. F. It's ill becomin' to them that takes the bite and 
the sup out of our mou.ths, to be axin' for charity. 

Con. Axin' your pardon, ma'am, I'll pay you for your 
trouble. Only there isn't a huxter's sliop around here, I 
wouldn't think of botherin' you. 

Mrs. F. There isn't as much victuals in the dresser as 
would blind your eye, and if there was lashin's and lavin's I 
wouldn't look sideways at a ha'penny that Con o' the Bogs 
ever handled. 

Con. I never heard tell of him, ma'am. 

Mrs. F. No, of course you didn't. How could you? 
But sure as you went without )'our supper maybe you'd like to 
hear some of his doin's. 

Con. I believe 'tisn't rainin' so hard as it was. I think 
I'll be goin'. I never expected — 

Mrs. F. That you'd see me here, you black-hearted vil- 
lain. 

Con. I never saw you afore this minute, woman. Maybe 
you're mistakin' me for somebody else. I'm an honest man, 
and my name is Dan Murnane if you want to know it. 

Mrs. F. Why then, when did you change your name? 

Con. I tell vou again I never remember seein' you in my 
life. 

Mrs. F. No, you never remember the night fourteen 
years ago that you came to Castle Headford, and tould me my 
mother was dyin'. 

Con. I was never in such a place, my good woman. 

Mrs. F. You lyin' rogue, all you want is a pair of horns 
and a cloven foot, to make you as bad as your master below. 
If 'twas forty year instead of fourteen, I'd never forget your 
villainous look when you dniv me across the old Weir Bridge, 
and threatened to drown me if I did not swear never to re- 
turn to my husband. 

Con. What if I did. Wasn't thim your husband's orders? 
What law do ye want of me ? 

Mrs. F. 'Twasn't my husband's orders made you throw 
my poor ould father out of his little houldin' and break his 
heart. 



30 INNiSFAIL. 

Con. I was only earnin' an honest penny. 

Mrs. F. And under whose orders were you actin' when 
you murdered the poor widow's son, and swore away an 
innocent man's Hfe? 

Con. 'Tis a He. Keep that busy tongue of yours quiet or 
it may be worse for you. 

Mrs. F. Your own tongue was busy enough once teUin' 
the neighbors black hes about me. 

Con. I was only tellin' 'em what I heard. 

Mrs. F. Some people hear a dale more than is good for 
'em. Do you see the door? Be after makin' yourself scarce, 
if you plaze. It can't be lucky to be under the same roof 
with you, so the sooner you go chase the speckled cow with 
the pookeen on her horns the better I'll like it. 
(Gerald appears at door unobserved by Con and Mrs. 
Ford.) 

Con. That's accordin' to how I feel, Mrs. Henry Black- 
wood Headford, God save the mark ! Some people never 
have sense enough to marry their own aquals. You must 
know that I'm not the sort of a bouchal to take away any 
prate from you. If you don't keep a civil tongue in your 
head, I'll stay here all night in spite o' your teeth. Make 
down a fire there, and go and get me a thasecaun of tobaccey 
to fill my pipe. 

Mrs. F. You're ugly enough and lazy enough to be your 
own servant. {Calls dog.) Rover, Rover, Rover! I v/arn 
you again, if you don't go I'll set the dog at you ; he's wicked 
enough to tear you in pieces. 

Con. {brandishing revolver) . I'll back this bulldog agin 
him any day. 

{Enter Gerald. Con r^tns toward door. Gerald stops 
him and forcibly takes revolver fro?n hivi.^ 

Ger. Ruffian ! 

Con. Oh, I wasn't doin' anythin', sir. 

Ger. Down on your knees, and ask this poor woman's 
pardon before you move another step. 

Con. Anythin' to plaze yer honor. I humbly ax pardon 
for offendin' ye, ma'am, but 'tis a vvay I have of talkin' that's 
natheral to me. 

Ger. Go, now, and never show your face here again. 



INNISFAIL. 31 

Con. But, sir, my life isirt safe without my means of 
defence. 

Ger. Begone, villain, not another word. Get out of my 
sight before you tempt me to give you what you have long 
deserved. 

Con {aside). My turn may come yet. {Exit.) 

(Effie conies from behind dresser.) 
Ger. Effie ! 

Eff. Gerald ! My mother, Gerald. 

Ger. Happy to meet you, but I confess I am a little 
puzzled. Was not Mrs. Ford the name? 

Mrs. F. 'Twas Head-ford once, sir, but when misfor- 
tune come upon me I thought half of it was long enough for 
this little cabin. 

Ger. But, 'twas reported many years ago that you were 
dead, and I believed it so. 

Mrs. F. Some people say a dale more than their prayers, 
sir. Maybe them that did it would take the lead of me. 
Ger. Not at all improbable. 

Eff. My father once told me that I was the very picture 
of my mother. Do I look like her? 

Ger. There is, indeed, a very strong resemblance. 
Eff. But why did he deceive me, Gerald ? 
Ger. You are beginning to doubt, I see, but you may 
rest assured, Effie, that she is your mother. I know she is. 
Time will explain — 

Eff. 'Tis all like a strange dream to me, for I never 
expected to see more of my mother in this world than her 
grave, and here, I do believe — you told me — that is 
enough — she is my mother. Mother! (Mrs. Ford and 
Y.Y¥\¥. embrace. Music.) 

Mrs. F. My poor mother will wonder whaf s keepin' me. 
I must go and see if she wants anything. 

Ger. See, Effie, you have a grandmother, too. 
Mrs. F. The poor woman won't trouble any one long, 
Mr. O'Connell, she's wastin' away every day. Sure if ye 
have a word to say in private I won't be in any hurry comin' 
back, ril stay by her bedside, and if you want me you can 
call me. {Exit.) 

Ger. Oh, Effie, I thought Td never see you more. 
These few days that have elapsed since we pledged our faith 



32 INNISFAIL. 

to one another seemed to me so many years. Many an 
effort did I make in the death-like stillness of these nights, 
to steal to Castle Headford. but everywhere I was so closely 
watched that the attempt would be at the risk of my life. 

Eff. And where did you spend the time, Gerald, since 
last I saw you ? 

Ger. As far away from the abodes of men as I could 
stay. Once upon a moonlit night I rested with the dead in 
the old churchyard of Greenlea ; another time I slept upon 
the heather that covers the head of Carn Tual, and still 
another night above the bones of Owen Roe in Muckross 
Abbey. But at last Fve found a haunt unknown to foe or 
friend save trusty Felix. 

Eff. Oh, Gerald, I shudder at the thought of your mid- 
winter night adventures. Whene'er I pass by Greenlea's 
v/alls I'll feel grateful to the tombs that threw their shadows 
o'er you upon that moonlit night. 

Ger. 'Twas but a scanty covering, and I do not wonder 
that I felt chilly on awaking, for when I laid down to rest 
the shadows were o'er me, and when I awoke in the morning 
the shadows were gone. 

Eff. 'Twas pretty thin indeed. But what is your new 
place of safety like ? 

Ger. a cave in the Eagle's Nest Mountain. 

Eff. It must be very lonely, Gerald. 

Ger. As lonely as the tomb. 

Eff. But does not Felix often visit you? 

Ger. Were it not for him I would be dead. He often 
smuggles a basket of provisions into the Emerald Scoop. 

Eff. I never heard of the Emerald Scoop. 

Ger. That is the name v/hich Felix gave the cave. 

Eff. It takes Felix to think of a name. But, Gerald, I 
fear I'm overstaying the time. If my friends return from 
Killarney before I reach Arbutus Lodge, they will be alarmed 
at my absence. When shall we meet again? 

Ger. I do not know. I'll see you to the gate and think 
upon it on the way. Shall I call your mother? 

Eff. Yes, knock gently at the door. See, the storm is 
nearly o'er. 

Ger. {knocks at door). Mrs. Headford, we are going. 
{Enter Mrs. Ford.) 



INNISFAIL. 33 

Mrs. F. Goin' so soon ! 

Eff. Yes, mother, I shall try to see you soon again. 
You must come over to Arbutus Lodge, to see me, some 
e\^ening before I return to Castle Headford. Here, (gwes 
her money) you may need this more than I do. 

Mrs. F. Musha, God bless your generous heart. 'Tis a 
long time since I had the handlin' »of so much money. 

Eff. ril never see you want, mother, while Tm alive. 

Mrs. F. God Almighty bless you, darlin\ {Weeps.) 
The tears will come in spite of me." Sure many another 
daughter wouldn't purtend to know her mother if she found 
her as you found me. 

Eff. You are my mother, that is enough for me. Let 
the world say what it will, Til see your wrongs redressed. 
And now {kisses her) good-bye. {Exeunt Gerald and 
Effie.) 

Mrs. F. Good night, and God be wid ye. {Music.) 

CURTAIN. 



34 



INNISFAIL. 



ACT III. 



SCENE. — The Efnerald Scoop, a cave in the Eagle'' s Nest 
Mountain, Killarney. A rock near the month of the cave. 
Enter Brandon atid Con cautiously. 

Con. This is the very spot, Masther Brandon. See, in 
there he sleeps, and here upon this rock he sits for hours at 
times. 'Twill be no trouble to take him unawares if 30uonly 
give the word. They can haul him off to jail, and once he's 
safely bowlted there, he won't be likely to trouble you for the 
rest of your life. 

Bran. Can't you devise some means of calling him to an 
account other than informing? Remember how completely 
sold we were by wily Sergeant Seemore. 

Con. Sure it's myself that can. Send me direct to the 
barracks, sir, and I'll warrant they'll be hoppin'wid joy at get- 
tin' some tidin's of his whereabouts. There's that black 
divil of a Boucher that's wearing the soles off his shoes night 
and day to be made a sergeant ; 'twill be just into his fisth. 
Sure if 'twas only a tarrier that belonged to Gerald O'Connell, 
the same awlyawn'd be bouncin' to ketch him if there wasn't 
a license took out. 

Bran. You don't seem to quite understand me, Con. I 
have taken you into my confidence more than once before, 
and I feel I can safely do so now. The fact of the matter is 
simply this — I want to marry Effie Headford. 

Con. Yis. 

Bran. But Miss Headford clings to a childish affection 
for O'Connell, which I imagine could be done away with. 

Con. Yis. 

Bran. Perhaps you're more enlightened now. 

Con. I'm listenin', sir. 

Bran, {aside). Curse the clown, why won't he see? 
{Aloud.) Have you ever loved a human being? 

Con. Well, I was very fond of a bull pup I had once, sir, 
but he died young with the mange. 

Bran. Well, dog that he was, your affection, if I might 
so call it, grew less and less, did it not? 

Con. Yis, and after a while I almost forgot I ever owned 
him. 



INNISFAIL. ^t 

Bran. And you like the dog I made you a present of, just 
as well. ■' 

Con. Just as well, Masther Brandon. 

Bran. That's just the point. Now, if that first doo- were 
stolen from you, and you knew there was some chance of cret- 
ting him back, would you take another? * 

Con. I hardly think I would, Masther Brandon. 

Bran. Now, you understand what I have said ? 

Con. Every word of it. 

Bran. Well, what is the sum and substance of it^ 

Con. If I had a dog that I liked and supposin' he died 
I d soon forget him. An' if I had a dog that I liked and sup- 
posin some blackguard stole him from me, I wouldn't be 
long findin' him out and givin' him a tasthe o' my knuckles on 
the shkull. 

Bran. Now, we're gettin' down to business. Suppose it 
were a Fenian instead of a dog, what would be your conclu- 
sion? ■' 

Con. Well, if I had a Fenian that I liked — but sure that's 
out o' the question, Masther Brandon, for neither you nor I 
hke a bone in a Fenian's body. 

Bran. But if a lady loved a Fenian, and he died — 
Con. If a lady loved a Fenian, and he died, she might for- 
get him. * 

Bran. And if a. lady loved a Fenian and he was trans- 
ported — 

Con. She might be true till he'd be free. 

Bran. Now, Con ! 

Con. Yis, Masther Brandon. 

Bran. Why the devil don't you say something? 

Con. I believe 'tis nearly time to be goin' back, sir. I 
don't see what business we have here. 

Bran. And is all that I have said gone for nothincr? 
(Crosses to rock.) Come hither, you blockhead. * 

Con. Yis, sir. 

Bran. Sit down upon this rock. 

Con. What are you goin' to do wid me, Masther Bran- 
don? 

Bran. To give you an illustration. 

Con. Sure, I have done nothing to desarve it, sir. 

Bran. The illustration, you foolish man, that I am going 



36 INNISFAIL. 

to give you, is simply this. Now you are sitting on this 
rock. 

Con. Yis. 

Bran. What do you see overhead ? 

Con. Rocks, sir. 

Bran. Now if someone were to loosen one of those rocks 
and let it fall upon your head — 

Con. Then I would be kilt dead entirely. {Rises in a 
hurry. ) 

Bran. See here, Con, you know youVe in my power. 

Con. There's a pair of us in it, as the goat said to his 
horns. You know you're in mine. 

Bran. No matter about that. Con. If O'Connell had 
treated me with the same contempt that he treated you, do 
you know what I would do? 

Con. Fight a jewl, I suppose. 

Bran. Guess again, Con. 

Con. Now, Masther Brandon, if you staid beatin' around 
the bush till to-morrow mornin' 'twould be no use for you. I 
know what you're drivin' at well enough, all along. Spake 
out your mind plain like a man, an' give me your terms, and 
I'm wid ye. 

Bran, {looks around and listens') . To-night when O'Con- 
nellwillbe here alone, roll down a rock upon his head that 
will crush him into an unrecognizable mass. Is that plain 
enough ? 

Con. As plain as the nose on your face. 

Bran. Here are two sovereigns ; eight more I will give 
you when he shall be no more. 

Con. It's a bargain. But if I happen not to aim straight 
enough, or if he wasn't in the right place, how would it be 
then? 

Bran. Then here. {Gives revolver.) Two or three 
chambers of this emptied in his carcass will soon dispatch 
him. 

Con. An' if I should be arrested — 

Bran. Fear not. I have taken your neck out of the 
halter once before, I can do it again. You're only doing the 
country a service, man, in ridding it of a rebel. 'Tis a patri- 
otic act. 

Con. And why, Masther Brandon, wouldn't you do this 
patriotic act yourself? 



INNISFAIL. 37 

Bran. YouVe an older hand in the business than I am, 
youVe a surer shot, and you have just as good reason to be 
patriotic in the present instance as I have ; besides, it's a pay- 
ing job for you. 

Con. That's true. When and where am I to get the 
rest of the money ? 

Bran. This very night and in this very spot. 

Con. You brought it wid you then? 

Bran, {shows hwi mo?iey) . See. Go now to the foot of 
the hill and await his return from Arbutus Lodge. When he 
ascends you can follow at a distance. I shall remain below 
until you whistle from the rock. It is now just half past nine 
o'clock. One short half hour and Gerald's dream of love is 
o'er. Effie Headford must be mine. And Con, you will be 
provided for. Do not forget the whistle. 

Con. Not likely, Masther Brandon, when there's eight 
pound in it. 

Bran. Then courage is the word. I know you will not 
fail. But remember the whistle means that he's no more. 

Con. Then when you hear it, do not keep me waitin' 
long. A murdered man's poor company for the one that takes 
his life. 

Bran. Now, away, away, and think no more upon it. 
'Tis a sickening thought, but let it not deter you from your 
duty. The time is drawing nigh. {Exit Con, l. i.e.) One 
short half hour and Gerald O'Connell shall cross my path in 
love or hate no more ! {Exit l. u. e.) 

{Mtisic.) 
{Enter Felix, r., with a bag on his shoulder Jilled with 

bla?ikets and sheets over which are packed raw potatoes 

and turnips to conceal the bed-clothing which he smuggles 

to Gerald.) 

Fel. Oh, but it's the hard time I had trudgin' over the 
bogs and the hills all the ways from Ballygerald, and the 
rain comin' down for all the world like you'd let it out of a 
sieve. But sure I'd go through twice as much for the poor 
helpless ould mother that's dependin' on me for bread. Ah, 
sure {taking some potatoes out of bag'), them are the 
pyaties that'll keep her body and soul together, every one of 
'em the full of your fist. If I had only a head o' cabbage, 



38 INNISFAIL. 

now, and a pig's jowl to grease it in the pot, the poor 
craythur would think *'twas Christmas. {Looks into cave.) 
Ah! the darlin' isn't here yet. {Looks around.) I believe 
ril light the snob and make the bed, 'twill surprise the 
angishore. {Takes a dip candle f7-om pocket and tries to 
light it.) 'Twon't light, and no wonder, sure His as damp as 
the swamps of Molahiff. If I had only a little ashes to dip 
it in I'd be all right. I'll take a shock of the pipe and 
maybe then I can manage it. {Lights pipe and dries wick 
of candle in ashes of tobacco.) There now, {lights candle) 
maybe you'd stay lightin'. {IVind blows it out.) Bad 
manners from that blast of wind. Why didn't I bring a 
lantern? But aisy, sure haven't I the makings of one nice 
and handy. I'll scoop out a turnip in the real old style. 
Home manufactures forever ! {Sings while scooping out the 
tnrnip. Song can be introdticed, if desired.) I'm beginning 
to feel uneasy. {Walks around cave, looks upward.) 'Tis 
clearing off overhead, and the moon is risin'. 1 thought 
he'd be here before me, and still there's no sign of him 
comin'. I don't wonder at all that he'd run the risk of being 
captured for a glimpse of Effie Headford's lovely eyes. In 
all Ireland there isn't her match for beauty, barrin' of course 
my own Mary Anne. 

{Enter Gerald.) 

Ger. Felix, old fellow, what's the good word.^ How are 
you? 

Fel. Faith, you wouldn't ask me that half an hour ago, 
when you passed me on the road. 

Ger. Passed you on the road ! All the road I travelled 
to-night was from the cross of Knockenwadera to Arbutus 
Lodge, and I didn't meet a soul on the way save an old 
beggarman who touched his hat to me. 

Fel. And was he carryin' anything? 

Ger. He had a bag thrown across his shoulder, and he 
carried a cudgel. 

Fel. {putting on old coat , throwing bag 071 his shoidder, 
and ca7'rying walki7ig stick). Did he walk anything like 
this? {Imitates walk of i7ifir7fi beggar.) 

Ger. I had not the slightest suspicion that it was you. 

Fel, Ah, when they get aholt of me, they'll be after 
catching a white blackbird in earnest. 



INNISFAIL. ■ 39 

Ger. What brought the potatoes and turnips here? 

Fel. The old beggarman, of course. Take a peep into 
the scoop to see how you think you'll sleep to-night. 

Ger. {looks i7i, sees bed). 'Tis like you, Felix. And 
you carried that heavy load over the long road from Bally- 
gerald ? 

Fel. Oh, sure Td carry yourself in the bag if 1 thought 
'twould do you any good. I could start a peep show then, 
and make a little fortune. 

Ger. {sits on rock) . Well, what is the news from Bally- 
gerald ? 

Fel. Everything is goin' on just as if you were there 
yourself. There isn't a boy in the place but would go to the 
end of the world for you, and sure Td go to the other world 
myself if I thought there was any chance of comin' back with 
an answer. 

Ger. Any new arrests? 

Fel. No, but didn't you hear that there was another 
risin' last night? 

Ger. Another rising ! Where were the boys? 

Fel. Devil a one at all, barrin' the moon over the Lakes 
of Killarney. Did you notice my new patent, Gerald? 
{Shows la7iter?t.) I have a pen and ink here too, for >ou, 
to write a letter from France. 

Ger. I gave up the idea of going there, Felix. 

Fel. But the talk is goin' around that you're gone there 
already. 'Twas all the go at the forge last night, and I 
began to think if we could make people believe it, well and 
good, for you wouldn't be watched at all then. 

Ger. a capital idea. 

Fel. I was thinkin' if you wrote to Effie, and that when 
she'd be taking her handkerchief out of her pocket, by the 
way no harm, she could drop the letter where 'twould be 
picked up by a peeler, and then they'd leave you rest for a 
while. 

Ger. Here goes then. {Wi'iting.') "At sea. Dearest 
Effie : Thus far I've safely sailed. Address your next to 
France. Yours as ever, Gerald O'Connell." 

Fel. That's good. Pll give it to her. {Looks itpivard.) 

Ger. And when you see her tell her — 

Fel. Oh, Gerald ! the rock ! the rock ! {Pulls Gerald 
oi^it of the way. The rock strikes the spot with great force.) 



40 INNISFAIL. 

Ger. What a narrow escape ! 

Fel. I wonder did it fall down of itself or was it done on 
purpose by some villain. Sh-h ! I hear sometMng stirrin' 
above. Easy, slip into the Scoop, and Til be on the watch. 
Maybe 'tis only a goat after all. I'll climb up and see. 
(^Exeunt r. Enter Con, l., with revolve?', ready. ^ 

Con. Courage, Con, you devil, there's eight pounds more 
in it. {Looks around.) He must have crawled inside. I 
wonder did it strike him. I'll fire a shot or two in, anyhow. 
(^Presents revolver ', efiter Felix, rimning', seizes Co]<i from 

behind. CON drops revolver with fright. Felix picks it 

np.) 

Fel. No, you won't ! (Gerald comes ont.) You have 
only five minutes to live, you murderous, black-hearted villain. 
Make the best of it in preparing for a world where you were 
about to send him before his time. 

Con. Oh ! mercy ! mercy ! or I'm lost forever. 

Ger. Have you no prayer to say? Will you not even ap- 
peal to Heaven for forgiveness of your crimes ? 

Con. Oh, mercy ! Masther Gerald, mercy ! I didn't say 
a prayer for twenty years. 

Fel. Oh, the haythen. 

Con. Oh, spare me, sir, and Pll tell you all. 

Ger. Tell me all ! Can I not see it all? You came to 
murder me. 

Con. But I was sent — 

Ger. Sent? by whom? 

Con. If you promise not to kill me, I — I — will tell — 
you, sir. 

Fel. And if we let him go, Gerald, he'll wait for another 
opportunity. 

Ger. True. If we let the ruffian loose he'll bide his 
time, and try again to take my life and yours. 

Fel. Then look to Heaven for mercy. 

Con. Oh sir, I'm lost, I'm lost, I'm damned. My sins 
rise up before me and sink me down in deep despair. Oh, 
show me mercy and I'll lave the country in the morning. 

Ger. Leave the country, eh ,! Murderous rogue, your 
word is poor security. 

Con. I'll make a full confession of my crimes, I will 
swear to it. You can take it down — 



INNISFAIL. 41 

Fel. What then? 

Con. ril be in your power, and if I stay in the country 
you can see me swing. 

Ger. Let us have it. 

Con. But sir, won't you promise — 

Ger. Go on, go on. 

Con. ■'Tis nearly twinty years now, since I came to Ire- 
land, a runaway from the law. I robbed a man and nearly 
kilt him on the docks in Liverpool and then escaped on board 
a scliooner. I didn't know or care where 'twas bound for, 
but it landed me in Dingle. I begged my way from place to 
place till I was sure the peelers were off my track, and the 
first job I got in this country was from Brandon Benner's 
father as a gamekeeper. 'Twas then when rovin' through 
the bogs on the lookout for poachers that they christened me 
Con o' the Bogs. 

Ger. Where were you born ? 

Con. I don't know. My father was a Norwegian sailor. 
His name was Andersen, and my mother was a Scotch 
woman. She died when I was only seven and my father was 
lost at sea. My right name was Frederick Andersen. If I 
wasn't left an orphan — 

Fel. What about Kelleher's murder? Didn't you have a 
hand in it? 

Con. 'Twas I that kilt him, and by Brandon Benner's 
orders I swore away the life of young Dwyer. . 

Ger. Cold-blooded ruffian, did you not cause the death of 
the old man Moriarty, too? 

Con. I only shoved him out the door, I didn't mane to 
kill him. 

Fel. Look at the way the vagabond is peepin' out from 
under his eyebrows, with his roguish-lookin' head hangin' 
down. You'd think he'd want a goulogue to hold it up. 
'Twas the mistake o' the world they didn't call him Con, the 
Critaun. 

Ger. Hold up your head and tell us all you know of Bran- 
don Benner. 

Con. 'Twould take till mornin', sir. 'Tis him and his 
money I have to blame for many of my crimes. 'Twas he 
that sent me here to kill you. 

Fel. Oh, the murderin' thief! 



42 INNISFAIL. 

Ger. The cowardly hypocrite. Base and depraved as I 
knew him to be, I did not think him capable of such vil- 
lainy. 

Con. He tould me that you stood in his way and that 
when you were out of it, Effie Headford would be his wife. 
'Twas by his orders I rowled down the rock where you were 
sittin'. That pistol, too, belongs to him. He gave me two 
pounds, and I was to get eight more when the job was done, 
rd like to chate him out of that, 'tis the last chance Til 
have. 

Ger. When did you see him last? 

Con. Half an hour ago, he was here. 



Where is he now? 



Fel. 

Ger. 

Con. Waitin' at the foot of the hill for the signal. 

Ger. What signal? 

Con. a whistle from the rock above. 'Twill bring him 
here quick enough. It was to mean that you were done for, 
and he should see the work before he paid the money. 

Ger. Has he any arms? 

Con. None, sir. He gave me that pistol, to-night. 
'Twas the only one he had. 

Ger. Then whistle, Felix, from the rock. 

Fel. But first, let us put a spancel on this av/l3'awn and 
shove him into the cave. {Binds Con.) Pretend you're 
sleepin', Gerald, when Benner comes. Til watch him and 
when we've drawn him out we'll set the villains face to face. 
(Gerald lies down near ?'ock, sleeps. Felix ^ir.'i^i' i?ito cave, 
takes a sheet ajid winds it around him. Whistles.^ I'll 
make him believe I'm Mat Dwyer's ghost. {Looks i e. R.) 
{Solemnly .^ In the dead hour of the night the churchyard 
gave me up, O earth, again to thee, my murderer to accuse. 
See how he speeds ! He falls ! He swears ! He's up again ! 
Softly now he steals ! Hear him whisper. Con ! Con ! He 
pauses ! He's white with fear ! Again he calls Con ! Con ! 
He comes ! he comes ! 

{Exit L ; enter Brandon, r.) 

Bran. No, I will never rest content until I lay my hand 
upon his heart and know it beats no more. {Goes jiearer to 
Gerald; starts.) And is the sleep of death so like its 
image! {Feels.) Soft! he breathes — he stirs — he wakes 



INNISFAIL. 43 

— Ger — Gerald. He answers not. His eyes close again — 

Ger. My head, my brain, the rock, the rock ! 

Bran. He raves ! Unconscious ! Mad ! Yet he may 
survive the shock. 'Twas badly done. Where is that 
clown? {Calls.) Con! Con! Curse the cov/ardly rogue, 
he's gone. Til pay him off for this. My pistol, too, he has 
taken with him. And must I finish what he's begun ? There 
lies the only "obstacle between my hand and Effie Headford's 
fortune. I must remove it. Til climb above and roll another 
rock upon his head. 

Fel. {stands in his way disguised as ghost) . Murderer ! 
Perjurer ! You shall not move another step. 

Bran. A ghost ! a ghost ! {Staggers back, falls on 
knees.) 

Fel. Murderer! Perjurer! * {Exit.) 

Bran. What a coward I was. Perhaps 'tis fancy. Yet 
I heard it speak so very plain, so very true. Bah ! if I see 
it again Fll strike it, and kick it back to blazes. {Goes again 
to entrance ; ghost appears. ) Get out of my way or, by my 
life, Fll knock your bones to pieces. 

Fel. {presents pistol) . Provoke the ghost of Mat Dwyer 
again ! Bring vengeance from the grave upon your head. 

Bran. 'Tis real, His real ! {Trembles.) 

Fel. Perjurer ! Murderer ! 

Bran. Oh, let me go — let — me — go — {Kneels.) 

Fel. Insolent being, if you attempt to stir or speak with- 
out my leave, instant death awaits you. {To Gerald.) 
Brother of the earth, awake, arise. {Gives him revolver and 
exit ,• returns immediately in his own character. ) 

Fel. Why Gerald, I'm glad to see you. But you're look- 
in' mortal pale. Is there anything the matter? 

Ger. a spirit just awoke me from a dream. 'Twas an 
awful dream, a dream I would not dream again for worlds. 

Fel. What was it about ? 

Ger. Night around me seemed to change into a mystic, 
heavenly light with nothing here below so luminous. A 
bright spirit with golden wings came fluttering o'er me and 
gently waved its hand as if to warn me of some approaching 
danger. I thought I rose to greet the spirit, and then a 
monstrous rock came tumbling down and struck the very spot 
where I was resting. Scarce had I looked around when the 



44 INNISFAIL. 

heavenly light was extinguished and the beautiful vision was 
gone. Then in the drear}' darkness came a hideous spirit of 
hell with murder written on his brow. The bright spirit 
came on the scene and held the fiendish hand just as 'twas 
raised to take my life. The spirit bound the fiend and cast 
him into darkness, darker than darkest night that ever came 
on earth. Then the arch fiend madly sought his satellite, 
and my remains. And as he nearer came to where I lay, I 
could hear the terrible words : " No, I will never rest content 
until I lay my hand upon his heart and know it beats no 
more." A little while and I awoke and (^seizing Brandon) 
seized the arch fiend by the neck and made him bend the 
craven knee for mercy. 

Bran. Mercy ! Ger — aid — Mercy ! 

Fel. Gerald, is it against the law to dream? 

Ger. No, Felix. 

Fel. {runs into cave ; brings Con onf) . I dreamt, too, 
{grasping Co'H and shaki?ig him^ that I came near choking 
the first black devil. 

Con. Oh! Oh! Oh! 

Ger. What shall we do with them? 

Fel. Set the villains face to face. 

Bran, {to Con). Oh, you low scoundrel, take away your 
hideous countenance from my sight. You are like a devil let 
loose from hell. 

Con. a mighty nice lookin' angel you are. 'Tis you and 
your money I have to thank for this. Curse the day I ever 
did your dirty biddin\ If I could get my hands on your neck 
this minit, Fd choke the life out o' you, you hangman of 
blazes. 

Bran. Let me go, let me go, and Til put an end to the 
ruffian. 

Ger. No, you shall not touch him. Send him out of my 
sight, Felix. 

Fel. {takes QoYi and shaves off one side of Jiis whiskers). 
Look here now, you murdering cut-throat scoundrel of a ruf- 
fianous villain, if you ever dare to show that ugly lantern jaw 
of yours on Irish soil again, Fll lave you so that you won't 
know whether 'tis on your head or your heels you'll be stand- 
ing. 

Con. Never, never. 



INNISFAIL. 4^ 

Ger. Begone, you are a fiend. 

Con {aside as he goes). I'd like to know what's goin' to 
happen him. {Hides.) 

Bran. Whatever you are going to do with me — in mercy, 
do it quickly. Why did you leave that ruffian go? 

Ger, Though you would take my life, I will leave yours 
to Him who gave it. Fear nothing from me, Brandon, I will 
not do )-ou harm. 

Bran. A dagger driven through my heart would not be 
so severe. Gerald, I am not fit to live^ Take, oh take this 
miserable life away. 

Ger. Go, mend your ways and make your peace with 
Heaven. All is not lost if you repent. 

Con {rushes in). Give me the chance and I'll soon put 
an end to him. {Snatches pistol fro?n Gerald, and is about 
to fire at Brandon, when Brandon strikes hitn. Co^ falls 
on pistol and shoots himself. ) 

Fel. Good shot ! 

TABLEAU. 
Felix. Gerald. Con. Brandon. 



46 INNISFAIL. 

ACT IV. 

SCENE. — A dra'wing-roojn in ArbnUts Lodge. Brandon 
leaning against table. Doors, r. a7id l. 

Bran. Alas, to have loved her as I have loved her, and 
be compelled to say farev;ell forever to Eliie Headford ! I 
knov/ I am unworthy of her hand, yet, had I the faintest 
hope of winning her affection, I never v/ould thus yield. 
But now, it is too late, it is too late ! My fortune's gone ; 
and I go forth from Bennerville with the deadly sin of Cain 
deep burning on my brow. In heaven or earth there is no 
hope for me. 

{E7der Headford and Effie.) 

Eff. 'Tis Brandon. He looks terribly agitated. 

Head. Brandon, my boy, you were not wont to greet us 
thus. 

Bran. Leave me, Mr. Headford, to my own bitter 
thoughts. Yet, I would say a word to Effie. {Drawing 
her aside. ) Do you still think the same ? 

Eff. I do and ever will. 

Bran. Then to-morrow I shall leave Bennerville for ever. 

Eff. Father, Brandon is going away. 

Head. What! Brandon going away? Surely, you are 
not a Fenian, Brandon? 

Bran. No, Mr. Headford, but life has no charms for me 
here. I have made up my mind to go abroad, and nothing 
can change it. 

Head. A most foolish undertaking. Mark my words, 
you^l regret it. If your father were alive, he would never 
countenance such a proceeding. 

Bran. I must go. 

Eff. I hope youll spend your last night with us, 
Brandon, we'll try to make it a pleasant one for you. 

{Enter Yyia^l, disguised as Harry the Huntsman.^ 

Head. What is that strange-looking character gaping 
around here for? I think he has a great deal of impudence. 

Fel. Tally ho ! Whoop ! 

Bran. He looks like an old hanger-on of Bennerville, 
whom they called Harry the Huntsman. He left suddenly 
one day about ten years ago and no one ever saw anything 
of him since. ^^ 



ilSTNlSFAlL. 47 

Mead. I often heard your father speak of him. As well 
as I remember, he used to be an eccentric, silly fellow, with 
a poetical turn of mind. 

Fel. Can you tell me, sir, whereas the ould master of 
Bennerville ? 

Head. Yes, but what might be your business? 

Fel. ''Tisn't the rale ould gentleman himself, or one in 
his house, would be after axin' me that question. I was 
always welcome to go and come as I plazed, but since he 
gave up the hounds I'm leadin' a ramblin' sort of a life. 
An' sure, when I went over to Bennerville to-night, there 
wasn't a trace of the ould times left, although 'tis only ten 
years since I ran away. Och oych, 'twas more like a prison 
than a sportin' gentleman's house when I looked at it. 

Bran. 'Tis poor Harry, indeed. {To Felix.) I'm 
sorry to say you'll never see the old master again. He's 
gone to the happy hunting ground well-nigh seven years. 

Fel. Oh, wierasthrue ! Sure, there isn't a fine sportin' 
gentleman in the country but's dead and gone. Oh, wier- 
asthrue, oh v/ierasthrue. {Aside.) Bad luck from the ould 
rack-rentin' divil. 

Bran. Why did you leave Bennerville ? 

Fel. I rambled away on an April day. 
Like many another jaynus. 

Head. And where were you ever since? 

Fel. In the County Tyrone, where I wandered alone. 
Like many another jaynus. 

Head. And how did you like the north ? 

Fel. I lived there awhile, in the greatest of style, 
Like many another jaynus. 

Eff. How did you get along with the Orangemen? 

Fel. When I got in a fight, I lathered thim right, 
Like many another jaynus. 

Bran. What put it into your head to come back? 

Fel. To tellyou the truth, 'twas the days of my youth, 
Like many another jaynus. 



Head. Would you like to see the young master, Harry? 

Fel. Sure, it's myself that would — 

Head. Now, if you sing us one of your old songs, I will 
show him to you and give you a good glass of punch in the 
bargain. 



4S INNISFAIL. 

Fel. With the greatest of pleasure, if you give me good 

measure, 
Like many another jaynus. {Sings.') 

O'er the gap of Dunloe, 
Tally ho ! tally ho ! 
Merrily, merrily, merrily go. 
(^Ju7nJ>s.) Whoop ! 

I won't sing any more till I see the young master. 

Head. Here he is. 

Bran. I am the old master's only son, Brandon. Do 
you remember me ? 

Fel. {joying Brandon very closely). Oh, wierasthrue, 
wierasthrue, worse than ever, worse than ever. Oh, what is 
the world comin' to, at all at all. Oh, all the saints in 
heaven defend us. Oh, wierasthrue, wierasthrue ! 

Bran. Why, the man is mad. 

Fel. The same face, the same face ! Oh, why did I 
ever look at it? Oh, you're not his son at all, you're not his 
son at all. 

Bran. Nonsense, man, you are a lunatic. 

Fel. Oh, the son of the rale ould gentleman couldn't be 
guilty of what I saw you doin'. Oh, no, no, no. 

Bran. He's raving. 

Fel. rd know that face in a thousand. 'Twas you I 
savv last night, and you tell me you're Mr. Benner's son. A 
son of Mr. Bender's a murderer. Oh, no, no. 

Head. What had we better do with him? 

Fel. Your words are still ringin' in my ears when you 
came to see if he was dead all out. Don't you remember 
when you said "Con, Con! curse the cowardly rogue, he's 
gone"? I was on the rock above you, and saw your face in 
the moonlight and heard you spake the words — 

Bran. No peace on earth, no hope in heaven for me. 
Mr. Headford — Effie — forget a murderer if you can. If I 
stay here another hour the very walls will accuse me. You 
shall never see my face again, never ! Farewell. (^Exit, l.) 

Eff. Forget a murderer ! oh, Gerald ! 
{Enter Gerald, r.) 

Fel. Innisfail! 

Head. Ah, Gerald, and still at large. 

Ger. Yes, sir. {Shakes hands with Y.yyi^.) 



INNISFAIL. 49 

Eff. Your deadliest foe is gone, and gone for ever. 

Fel. May he never come back. 

Ger. What! Was Brandon here ? 

Head. He came to say farewell, and left his memory 
stained. He must be deep in crime. He looked and spoke 
and moved as if some horrid vision were pursuing him. He 
called himself a murderer, yet, I cannot think ot one who 
did him wrong, or one who would provoke him to that 
extent of crime. 

Ger. That one is here. He would have killed me if he 
could, yet I never did him wrong. 

Fel. The murderin' villain ! 

Head. And why? 

Ger. It was {pointing to Effie) because I loved her. 

Head. Oh, what fiends the green-eyed monster makes 
of men. 

Ger. I love your daughter as I love my life. She loves 
me in return. Our hearts are one another's. Will you send 
us both away to go our separate roads in misery for all our 
lives, or will you say the only word that will our happiness 
complete .? 

Head. Be happy, Gerald. You are a noble fellow. 
And Effie — 

Eff. Father! {They embrace ; imtsic.^ 

Ger. I can scarcely speak. Emotion chokes my 
utterance. 

Head. I can, Gerald. If you've loved your country too 
fervently, you've loved it, nevertheless, sincerely, for w^hich 
you have my good opinion. Do not look surprised that I, 
Henry Blackwood Headford of Castle Headford, sb.ould sa)- 
it, but the man that does not love his country can hardly 
love the God that called it forth from chaos. 

Fel. You never said a truer word. The man that would 
not love his country, or fight for her glory, or die for her 
freedom, is not worth — a kick in the shin. 

Head. Gerald, let the struggle that you've seen be to 
you a lesson for your life. Henceforth, do not embark on 
dread rebellion's destructive sea unless your barque be proof 
against the elements. Its furious waves may blight your 
country's hopes for years and throw her bleeding on her 
knees. 



50 INNISFAIL. 

Fel. He's a rale ould jDatriot. Glory be to goodness, 
whatever in the world made him talk like that. Innisfail ! 

Head. That magic word. 'Twas once to me what now 
it is to you. I have not heard it said for years. 

Ger. What magic word .? You do indeed surprise me. 
Head. He {pointing to Felix) spoke it as you came. 
Shall I refresh your memory ? — 'Twas Innisfail. 
Ger. Innisfail ! 

Head. Yes, Innisfail. Many a night, long years ago, on 
Erin's hills, I heard and spoke the name. It now brings up 
before my mind old memories fond, and sad, and strange. 

Ger. And is it really possible, Mr. Headford, that you 
in your younger days were with the " boys ".? 

Head. Ah, Gerald, those that call me loyal, and think 
me proud of foreign rule, but little know the part I played in 
youth's enchanting days. Alas ! how time will change us all. 
Fel. {taking off disguise'). It don't take very much of it 
to change me. {To Headford.) Did you think I v/as 
Harry, sir, all along? 
Head. I did, indeed. 

{Enter ^Ivji. Ford.) 
Eff. {running to meet her). Oh, mother, dear mother, 
I thought you'd never come. I'm so delighted to see you. 

Head. My wife ! My child has found her mother ! Oh, 
mercy ! (^Covers face with hands.) 

Eff. Speak to her, father, oh, speak to her. 
Head. Effie — Mary. 

Mrs. H. Henry! (/^a:z>//^' ,• Gerald, Fellx ^-^z/c/ Effie 
rnn to her assistance.) 

Head, {aside). 'Tis fourteen years, but oh, how changed. 
Sorrow and suffering have done their deadly work. Pride, 
oh monstrous pride, no wonder angels fell beneath thy 
sway ! 

Eff. Father, will you not speak to her? I know you are 
sorry in your heart for this terrible separation. 

Head. 'Twas an evil hour for me, my child, when I sent 
your mother from my roof. I v/ould have given Castle Head- 
ford could I recall the words I spoke upon that awful night. 
From day to day I thought she would forgive me and return. 
Many a night at the window I sat and watched, hoping 



, Ix\NISFAIL. 51 

against hope, that she would come back. For me, I could 
not — pride would not let me — make the first advances to 
bring about a reconciliation. 

Eff. It is not yet too late. 

Head. Oh, why did I deceive you, my child? Why did 
I keep you in ignorance of her fate? 

Eff. By an accident I heard it all. I know 'twas hard 
for you to tell me. I know you felt the hasty words you 
spoke more than you care to tell. Think 'twas but a dream, 
and we shall all try to forget 'twas ever stern reality. 

Head. Generous child. Oh, if you only knew how I 
loved her once, you would not wonder that I should be dis- 
consolate all my life. 

Fel. She's comin' to, thanks be to God. 

Head. Mary, I swore I loved you once. I love you still ! 
Can you forget the past ? Can you forgive me ? 

Mrs. H. With all my heart. {They evih'ace.') 

Head. Come with us, Gerald ; Effie come. 

{Exeunt, l.) 

Fel. {calls r). Mary Anne, Mary Anne. 

{Enter Mary Anxe.) 

Fel. Come here, acushla, I have something to tell you. 

Mary A. Yerra. Felix eroo, is it yourself that's in it? 
Are they gone upstairs? 

Fel. They are, and the old woman, too. Oh, the poor 
creature, 'twould melt the heart of a stone to see her cryin' 
and himself, too. 

Mary A. And was he cryin'? 

Fel. And big tears at that. 

Mary A. Oh, when I see a man sheddin' a tear, I could 
forgive him if he were goin' to murder me. 

Fel. Faix, thafs more than Id do. If any spalpeen mur- 
dered you (the Lord betune-us and all harm), and if his tears 
would fill the Lakes of Killarney, they'd never move me unless 
rd see him sinkin' in them. 

Mary A. There's no fear you'll have to trouble yourself 
about an3-one murderin' me, and as for yourself you'll surely 
die a natural death, seein' you're not kilt or taken long ago. 

Fel. Musha, 'tisn't death we ought to be talkin' about at 
all, darlin'. Do you know what I was thinkin' about when I 
was comin' over? 



5^ 



INNISFAIL. 



Mary A. That you'd like a good supper. 

Fel. No. 

Mary A. Maybe .you were thinkin' of ould Mr. Head- 
ford. 

Fel. No, 'twasnH that either. 

Mary A. Well, what was it then? 

Fel. I was thinkin' that you would soon have a house of 
your own to take care of and somebody else in the bargain. 
Arrah don't be talkin', when Gerald is married they"'ll be great 
times comin\ 

MarY' a. And will the great times stay, Felix? 

Fel. For ever and a day, erco. Sure Gerald and Effie 
are gettin' ready to go to the church, and says I to myself, 
maybe Mary Anne and myself would go too, for company 
sake, and who knows, says I, but Father Maurice would kill 
two birds with the one shot. And nobody can tell, says I, 
but somebody might be callin' Mary Anne Malone by the 
name of Mrs. OTlaherty comin' home, says I. 

Mary A. An' are you thinkin' of goin' in earnest ? Felix, 
acushla, what's comin' over you? 

Fel. Arrah, didn't I think I heard a voice whisperin' in 
ixiy ear — Felix, now or never, 'tis your luckiest night, the 
29th of September. 

Mary A. There must be a Michaelmas fairy hoverin' 
round you. 

Fel. I didn't see a Michaelmas fairy next or near me, but 
I saw a Michaelmas daisy, and that's yourself. 

{^Enter Gerald and Effie in weddijig dress. ^ 

Mary A. Long life and good luck to ye, Mr. O'Connell 
and Miss Headford. 

Ger. Thank you for your good wishes, Mary Anne. 
(Mary Anne and Y^yyiy. ivhispenng.) 

Ger. {to Felix.) We're going to France. I do not 
know how long we'll stay, but if we reach Calais undiscovered 
all will be well. 

Fel. And what way are ye goin'? 

Ger, You know Captain Kelliher. He's going to take us 
on his boat, and Mr. Headford will accompany me to Bantry 
Bay. 

Fel. And when do you think you'll be back? 

Ger. 'Twill all depend — 



INNISFAIL. 53 

{Enter Headford rt-z/^^ Mrs. Headford.) 

Head. I have made arrangements witU old Broderick to 
look after Ballygerald while youVe away. I have no doubt 
he will take good care of it. 

Ger. 'Tis very kind of you, Mr. Headford. I am sure 
he will. 

(^Enter M alone and Boucher.) 

Mal. Mr. Headford, this man arrested me as I was com- 
ing to see my grand-daughter. Do you not know me, sir? 

Head. Certainly, Mr. Malone. {To Boucher.) Con- 
stable, this old gentleman is all right. You can go. 

{Exit Boucher.) 

Mal. {looking after V>OXi(ZWE.Vi.^ The officiousness of that 
pugnacious biped is utterly revolting to the sensibilities of a 
philosophical mind. Where is Mary Anne? 

Mary A. O, grand-daddy, you're just in time — 

Fel. To be my best man. 

Mal. And where's the young patriot going? 

Fel. He's goin' to leave these parts for a while, Mr. 
Malone, and when he sets his foot on Irish soil again, we'll 
make the grand old hills re-echo with the music of Innis- 
fail. 

TABLEAU. 

Gerald. Effie. Headford. Mrs. Headford. 

Felix. Mary Anne. Malone. 

CURTAIN. 



TtlRKK NHW BOOKS. 

A F ool for I . ugk. 

A FflRClCAL COMEDY IN TWO ACTS. ' 

By W. M. BROWNE. 

Four male and three female characters. This laughable comedy of* 
) i 'dern society turns upon the mania for stock speculation. The leading 
^omcdy character is a type of Englishman not unrelated to Lord Dun- 
dreary, the other personages and the scene being American. The dia- 
logue is very bright, the scenery and costumes very easy. 

Price, .,-.---25 cents. 

Six to One; or The Scapegrace. 

By F. A. MATHEWS. 

One male, six female characters. Costumes, those of everyday life; 

Cenery, not at all necessary. This laughable little skit has something 

of the character of "The Only Young Man in Town," and will be 

even more popular. Five types of society girl are satirized with a keen 

hand — the Boston Girl, the Philadelphia Girl, the Chicago Girl, etc., etc. 

The dialogue is bright and the situations amusing. The one male 
character is an excellent one and plays itself. 

Price, - - - - , - - 15 cents. 

The N ursery D rill 

An entertainment for females — adultr or children — by MaryB. Horne, 
author of "The Peak Sisters," "The Book of Drills," etc. This drill is 
a new and original version of the entertainment variously called "The 
Dolls' Drill," "The Nurse-Maids' Drill," «'The Rag Baby Drill," etc. 
and is published complete with all music not readily obtainable, and full 
instructions. It will be found to be easily the best version of this popu- 
lar and amusing drill. 

PrJif, - 1 - ' 15 rents. 



NEW EiNiTERTAINCDENITS 



AK EVEKIKG OF STATUARY AHD TABLEAUX. 

BY GEORGE B. BARTLETT. 

Mr. Bartlett's skill in arranging entertainments of this character 
ensures a warm welcome for every new booiv from his pen. This ho '<; 
comprises twenty-four new tableaux and pantomimes — a set of in-ci i 
entertainments, with simple and effective directions by which they Cc.)* 
be carried out with little trouble and expense. - Price, as Cen s 



H Tv^OTHER Goose Rt^rxv 

AND OTHER ENTERTAINMENTS. 

By George B. Bartlett. 

Containing directions for A Mother Goose Party, A Mother Goose 
Operetta, Dame History's Peep-Show, A Vision of Shakespeare's 
Heroines, Historical Hints for Tableaux, A Tableau from Blue Beard, 
Literati, etc, .-.....- Price, 15 Cents. 



AND OTME^R KTsrTKRTAINlVIKlNrTS. 
BY GEORGE B. BARTLETT. 
Containing Mother Goose Pantomimes, a Christmas Pantomime, 
Dissolving Views, etc. ...,.- Price, li5 Cents. 



A NEW PLAY BY GEO. M. BAKER. 

GUSTAVK, TThK PROKKSSOR. 

A comedy in one act, translated from the French by Geo. M. Baker. 
Four male, two female characters; time in representation, fortv-fi^'^ 
minutes. - - Price, 8.-> €c: i 



UNDER K SF>E1-JU. 

A comedy in one act, from the French, by Julia DeW. Gibbs 
Four male, one female characters; time in representation, forty-fiv^ 
minutes to an hour. P"«e, 15 Cents 



A FA.LSK NOTK. 

A comedy in one act, by Julia DeW. Gibbs. Three male, four 
female characters. Plays about an hour ^ Price, 15 Cents. 



A in£W PLai rOK FEMALE CHARa^. 

A CompamoH to ''REBECCA'S TRIUMPHS 

ANITA'S TRIAL 

Or, Our Girls In Camp. 

By Esther B. Tiffany, author of "A Rice Pudding," "That Patrick," 
" Young Mr. Pritchard," etc. 

Price, -..-... 25 cents. 

This is a bright and sparkling comedy in three acts, for eleven 
female characters. Its story is entertaining, and its dialogue dis- 
tinguished by this author's delicate humorous touch. One scene only 
is necessary for the three acts — a camp in the woods, easily arranged. 
The dresses are simple and picturesque camping costumes. The enor- 
mous success of " Rebecca's Triumph " has created a demand for this 
sort of piece, to meet which we confidently present "Anita's Trial," 
in which is solved, with no less success than in its predecessor, the 
difficult problem of constructing a play of strong human interest with- 
out the assistance of male characters. 



The n HRQNQTHflNATQlETRON: 

OR, OLD TIMES MADE NEW. 

An entertainment in one act for sixteen girls, written for the Class Day 
Exercises at Dana Hall School, Wellesley, Mass., by two members 
of the Class of '87 and first performed before members of the school 
and their friends, June 18, 1887, and later at Ellsworth, Maine, 
April 6, 1888. 

Price, - • - «- - - 25 cents. 



THE PEAK SISTERS. 

A humorous entertainment for young ladies. Arranged by Mary B. 
HoRNE. Any number of ladies may take part, but seven only are 
necessary. No scenery; costumes very simple. This laughable 
trifle meets with invariable success wherever performed. 
Price, .....--IS cents. 



THE BOOK OF DRILLS. 

A group of entertainments for female characters for stage or floor per- 
formance, by Mary B. Horne, the author of " The Peak Sisters," etc. 

Price, - - - - - -- 80 cents. 



WALTER E BAKER & CO, PiUMers, 23 WlDter St, Boston 



rARKHikt A CO., rMn-aai, to. f^- 



9Ti -*w>»''»M 



v/NlVEH^, 



I>I^ICE, 15 OBJ^TI LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



fS INTENDED. A Comedy in 1 

By Horace Wigau. 3 mal«, 3 female char. 

ANONrMOUS KISS. A Vaudeville. 

.ale, 2 female char. 

>TH£B GLASS. A Drama in 1 Act. 

*»y Thomas Morton. 6 male, 3 female char. 

JNT CHARLOTTE'S MAID. A Farce 

in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

THE BABES IN THE WOOD. A Comedy 

in 3 Acta. By Tom Taylor. 10 male, 3 female char. 

liANKS AND PRIZES. A Comedietta 

in 1 Act. By Dexter Smith. 6 male, 2 female char. 

BLUE AND CHERRr. A Comedy in 1 

Act. 3 male, 2 female cUar. 

BOUQUET. A Comedietta in 1 Act. By 

J. A. Woodward. 2 male, 2 female char. 

BOWLED OUT. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

H. T. Craren. 4 male, 3 female ctiar. 

BROTHER BILL AND ME. A Farce in 

1 Act. Br W. E. Surer. 4 male, 3 female char. 

A BULL IN A CHINA SHOP. A Comedy 

in 2 Acta. By Charlea Matthew*. 6 male, 4 femata 
char. 

THE CHRISTENING. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By J. B. Buck.4tone. 5 male, 6 female char. 

THE CLEFT STICK. A Comedy in 3 Acts. 

6 male, 3 female char. 

COUSIN TO jl. A Comedietta in 1 Act. 

By (ieo. Robert*. 3 male, 2 female char. 

DAMON AND PITHIAS. A Farce. 6 

male, 4 female char. 

DANDELION'S DODGES. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. Wllliamn. 4 male. 2 female char. 

THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 

A Drama in 2 Acta. By Edward Pitxball. 6 male, 

2 female char. 

DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. An Interlude 

in 1 Act. By W. H. Murray. 10 male, I female. 

DONE ON BOTH SIDES. A Farce iu 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 female char. 

DON'T JUDGE B7 APPEARANCES. A 

FarcainlAct. Br J. H. Morton. 3 male, 2 female. 

DORA A Pastoral Drama in 3 Acts. By 

Chas. Reade. S male, 2 female char. 

A DOUBTFUL VIOTORT. A Comedy in 

1 Act. 3 male, 2 female char. 

DUNDUCKETTT'S PICNIC. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. WiUiamt. 6 male, 3 female char. 

HAST L7NNE. A Drama iu 5 Acts. 8 

male. 7 female char. 

GASPARDO THE GONDOLIER. A Drama 

a 3 Acts. By Geora* Almjr. 10 male, 2 female. 

GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME. A Farce. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

THE HIDDEN HAND. A Drama in 5 Acts. 

By Robert Jones. 16 male, 7 female char. 

BIT HIM, HE HAS NO FRIENDS. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By £. Yatcs and N. U. Harrington. 

7 male, 3 female char. 

A HUSBAND TO ORDER. A Seriocomic 

Drama in 2 Acts. 5 male, 3 female cliar. 

I'VE WRITTEN TO BROWNE. A Farce 

In 1 Act. ByT. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female char. 

JOHN DOBBS. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 female char. 

JOHN WOPPS, A Farce in 1 Act. By 

W. E. Suter. 4 male, 2 female char. 

THE LOST CHILDREN. A Musical En- 
tertainment in 5 Acts. By Mrs. Lewis Jenrer. 8 
male, 5 female char., and chorus. 

LOOK AFTER BROWN. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By George A. Stuart, M.D. 6 male, 1 female char. 

LOST IN LONDON. A Drama iu 3 Acts. 

6 male, 4 female char. 




015 863 679 



A Comedy in 3 



LTING 

By H. 

MADA 

2 mall 

MART 

A Far 

MONSI. 

Thomas Archer 15 male, 3 female char. 

MY PRE CIOUS BETSY. A Farce in 1 A( 

By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 4 female char. 

MY TURN NEXT. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

T.J Williams. 4 male, 3 female char. 

NICHOLAS FLAM. A Comedy in 2 Aeti. 

By J. B. Buckstone. $ male, 3 female char. 

NONE SO DEAF AS THOSE WHO WON'T 

Hear. A Comedietta la 1 Act. Bjr U. P. CurtU. t 
male, 2 female char. 

NURSEY CHICK WEED. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female char. 

OLD HONESTY. A Comic Drama in 2 

Acts. By J. M. Morton. 6 male, 2 female char. 

ONLY A CLOD. A Comic Drama in 1 Act, 

By J. P. Simpson. 4 male, 1 female char. 

PAYABLE ON DEMAND. A Domestic 

Drama in 2 Acts. 7 male, 1 female char. 

THE PHANTOM BREAKFAST. A Fare* 

in 1 Art. By Chas. Selby. 3 male, 2 female char. 

rUTKINS; Heir to Castles in the Air. 

A Comic Drama in 1 Act. By W. K. Emerson. S 
male, 2 female char. 

THE ^UEEN'S HEART. 

Acts. 5 male, 4 female char. 

A RACE FOR A WIDOW. A Farce in 1 

Act. 3y T. J. Williams 5 male, 4 female char. 

SARAH'S YOUNG MAN. A Farce in 1 

Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male, 3 female char 

THE SCARLET LETTER. A Drama in 3 

Acts, h male, 7 female char. 

SILVERSTONE'S WAGER. A Comedi- 

etta in 1 Act. By K. R. Andrews. 4 niale,3 femala,. 

A SLICE OF LUCK. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 2 female char. 

SMASHINGTON 60IT. A Farce in i Act. 

By T. J. Williams. 5 mule, 3 female char. 

A SOLDIER, A SAILOR, A TINKER, 

and a Tailor, A Farce in 1 Act. 4 male, 2 female. 

SUNSHINE THROUGH THE CLOUDS. 

A Drama in 1 Act. By Slingsby Lawrreaca. Smale 
3 female char. {]i- 

TRUE UNTO DEATH. A Drama in 2 Act%t s 

By J. Sheridan Knowles. 6 male, 2 female char. 

THE TURKISH BATH. A ^arce in 1 Act. 

By Montague Williams and F. C. Bumaad. 8 mala, 
1 female char. 

TWO GENTLEMEN IN A FIX. A Farca 

in 1 Act By W. E. Suter. 2 male char. 

TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE. A 

Farce in 1 Act. Bv l>enox liorne. 4 male, 1 female. 

THE TWO PUDDIFOOTS. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

AN UGLY CUSTOMER. A Farce in 1 Act. 

Bv Thoma.s J. Williams. 3 male, 2 female char. 

UyOLE ROBERT. A Comedy iu 3 Act*. 

bv H. P. Curtis. 6 .-nale. 2 female char. 

A VERY PLEASANT EVENING. A Farce 

in 1 Act. Bv W. K. Suter. 3 male char. 

THE WELSH GIRL. A Comedy in 1 Act. 

Bv Mrs. Planche. 3 mals, 2 female char. 

WHICH WILL HAVE HIM? A Vaude- 

ville. 1 m«le, 2 femalt* char. 

THE W.TFE'S SECRET. A Play in 6 Acts. 

Bv Geo. W. I-cvell. 10 male, 2 female chat. 

YOUR LIFE'S IN DANGER A Farce in 

1 Act. By J. M. Murtou. S male, ^ female char- 



'LTEE H. BAKER & CO., Publishers, Boston, Mass. 

p. O. Box 2840. 



feu. 



